The Adventures of Marco Ironflask
by Pocru
Summary: An ambitious Warcraft story like no other. Follow the story of Marco Ironflask, a common Ironforge Beastmaster in the endless war against the Horde, as he struggles to survive, and find purpose in a life of constant violence and death.
1. Book 1, Chapter 1: Monsters

Disclaimer: If I owned warcraft, why wouldn't I just make this cannon?

Authors Notes: This is Marco Ironflask, and I can almost promise you you've never read a Warcraft fanfic like it. None of these characters are toons I know from the game, or even my own toons-they're all 100% original and unique to this fanfiction. I'm here to tell a proper story, and to do that, I need proper characters... characters I built from the ground up for this story alone.

But I think that's all I need to say about it for now. I hope you enjoy it, and please review!

thanks!

* * *

**Book 1**

**How We've Survived**

* * *

"_How do you survive?"_

"_You become the monster they say you are."_

* * *

My name is Marco-Marco Ironflask-and I was once one of the certified Beastmasters of Ironforge city- the elite of the elite, so proclaimed my commander, although everyone in my company knew full well that skill was secondary to luck to get that far. Far more skillful men and woman died before they could join the Alliance's foremost defense against the Horde, and we could only be called the best of the best by virtue of the fact that any dead person who could fight better than us probably wasn't on our side.

The light-blue Silithid that was sleeping in front of me was named Tessa, apparently. She was supposed to do all my work for me, in effect. As a beast-master, I had to train it, guide it in battle, tell it when to do what, take care of it, give it support with the rifle, and other such tasks-but she did all the real killing and biting and fighting, I just had to make sure I didn't shoot her in the rear.

Such was the covenant between beastmaster and their beast. Unfortunately, I wasn't sure how eager I was to not shoot this strange animal in front of me.

"What's wrong, soldier?" My commander asked, giving me 'the eye'- that same over-the-top cartoonish glare he was fond of giving to those under his command he was picking on. He knew it was less intimidating and more outlandishly quaint, but it was one of the many things that gave him an identity. "Don't like 'er?"

"Well... no. I don't." I quietly defied his expectations, reaching forward to poke at her carapace with the nozzle of my rifle. "I was expecting a hawk, or a bear, like the rest of the Beastmaster's, not... this."

"You should be honored!" He spat, the booze he had just drank not more than a few minutes ago still clinging to his spittle, "This is a very unique animal, brought ta us by our dear ol' general as a trophy from 'er last huntin' trip! 's the highest recognition we can give ya!"

"...you just ran out of bears and hawks, didn't you?"

He leaned forward, his voice suddenly becoming much less robust as he let his rank fall to the wayside. "Yeah, but don' TELL anyone, aye? Specially' not the general, you COULD say we're..."

"Borrowing?" I flatly suggested a word.

"...yeah, borrowing, 'er trophy."

He pulled back and put his facade back on.

"Well! If 'ou 'ave PROBLEMS with this great show of generosity-"

"-Oh, no, no, perish the thought, sir!" I saluted sarcastically. "It's my great honor to accept this overgrown spider as my charge!"

"Damn right. Now... this ere' fella ain't gonna be expectin' you when 'e wakes up, so... you'll 'ave to calm 'er down..."

Joy.

"It's what I'm trained for, sir. Kind of."

To say I was trained to be able to handle this monstrosity was a bit of an overstatement. Hawks and bears? I knew those animals like the back of my hand. They're traditional Beastmaster animals, and we Dwarves are filled with patriotic pride when we get to watch an Orc get torn in half by a giant, pissed-off bear. This... thing, though, would be quite another story... and one fel of a learning experience.

"That's right! Now, unless you have anything ELSE ou'd like to whine about-"

"-No, SIR!"

"...then I'll be on m' way. See ya at th' bar tanight, lad!"

His professional scowl gave way to a stupid grin, flashing what remained of his teeth at me, and chuckling. His entire body relaxed, from shoulders to legs, and with a slight sway in his step, he waved goodbye as he walked out of the barracks.

* * *

As a Beastmaster, I'm trained in many, many sophisticated maneuvers and abilities- training that has been reinforced in the battlefield, where failing to perform these maneuvers at a moment's notice would result in my quick, likely painful death. Such abilities include-

-Advanced camouflage to either protect me from being targeted by long-ranged attacks, or for complete concealment against most conventional surveillance.

-The ability to quickly place advanced proximity-triggered traps that have a variety of useful applications in a tight spot on a battlefield

-A powerful leap backwards to put much-needed distance between me and a more melee-focused enemy

-I'm able to will myself into a trance where I could deflect any blow struck at me, for a time

-The ability to fool even the most seasoned soldiers into thinking I've died, with an act so convincing only sustained observation would even hint at the fact that I'm only feigning death.

As one could probably tell, the skills I've acquired are best served when used to keep me from dying. That's probably the best part of my job, as a beastmaster-my goal isn't to kill the most members of the horde, personally. Nor do I have to worry myself with healing others, taking hits for others, capturing flags or anything of that nature. My job is only to survive, so I can continue to direct the beast that creates the real body count.

If you had put a sword in my hand and just pushed me into a mass of angry orcs, I wouldn't of made it as far as I have.

The problem was, none of these life-saving techniques were very useful when it came to taming animals. So I was left to stare at this sleeping creature, sitting on my bunk, rifle resting on my lap, and wonder how I was going to do this.

I didn't know how 'tame' the general had made this beast-was it comfortable around dwarves? Was it only comfortable around the general? Exactly how long ago was this hunting trip? What had it been fed, where had it slept? If I at least had an IDEA, I could work out a strategy, but for now...

She twitched again, and let out a groaning, self-pleased click. I guess it was dreaming. I sighed, and relaxed my guard.

I had no idea how feisty that Silithid was, either. The bunker I was in now, while hardly a place rife with delicates and memorabilia, still had some things we'd rather not find broken in the wake of an angry animal's rampage-naughty posters, some exotic booze we had in storage away from the prying eyes of our commander, more than a few trophies ingloriously scraped off the corpses of fallen enemies... I imagine I'd be skinned alive if any of those should meet with misfortune.

I glanced around- this bunker had been my home for the past few months. The thick slabs of stone that made up the walls and ground were excellent at keeping the bitter, frosty winds out, and reminded me of home, but it was still awfully melancholy. Maybe I was the only dwarf who felt this way, but stone wasn't exactly warming company for the eyes. Between the suffocating white outside and the depressingly bland dullness of gray, being posted here didn't allow for much color to enrich or excite the eyes, except the tattered dark red flag we raised above the gates. The wind lashed at the flag too rabidly to find any grace in the color, however, and oftentimes a curtain of heavy snow prevented anything but the slightest shards of red to peek out.

...looking back to Tessa, I had to admit, it was sort of... invigorating to see such a tropical blue wrapped up next to the hot coals of the furnace. As charming as it was, though, I still couldn't find her presence a comfort. Spiders are scary. Alien spiders like her are scarier still, and what's more, I knew nothing of how to even begin to domesticate such a creature.

She stirred again, and I fumbled to get my gun in my hands- and not a moment too soon, as she released a cranky yawn and began to shake the weariness out of her body. Without a moment's hesitation, rapt with the panic pressing into my forehead, I shot her with a tranquilizing bullet, putting her back to sleep.

"You know," Flo sighed, leaning back on her bunk while she turned the page of her book, "One of these days you'll have to let it wake up."

The tranquilizing bullet, having injected its poison, fell to the ground, making good company with the six other empty tranquilizing bullet shells that cluttered the floor. With a friendly clattering sound, it quickly found its place in their ranks.

"...But not now, I don't."

* * *

Since it was a Dwarven camp, it was never so much a question of IF there'd be a tavern in the camp, as much as what it'd allow within its walls. There are tales, whispered amongst the soldiers hungry for the bite of the ale back at home, of camp-taverns overflowing with some of the most intoxicating, nerve-destroying, spine tingling brews ever conceived-ales so potent they double as poisons when not being consumed for recreational use.

Our tavern wasn't quite so legendary- in fact, due to our strategic placing, the strongest stuff you could get your hands on was Thunder Ale- an ale so weak you'd be better served licking the ground at any civilian bar. Although if you were doing that, even dwarves would have to admit you've had one too many.

It was a very humble building- like everything else, it was made of stone, but it was easily one of the most sturdy buildings because it was originally intended to be used as a holding cell for prisoners of war. But now the cages were used to quarantine the drunken brawls that inevitably spawned from our constant boasting and the warden's desk was used as the bar (with the kegs being kept back there as well). The chamberpots were flipped over and used as stools, which wasn't as bad as it sounded as only one of them was ever used in its traditional capacity, although which of the six was a well-kept secret. There wasn't a fireplace, so it wasn't warm, and the tiny barred windows that hugged the ceiling were an invitation for the wind to blow the alcoholic fog away from our bangs as we breathed between swallows.

Seated alongside the bar was what could be called my preferred company within the company: First was my commander, Vyger Anvilthrow, and the one who had given me my special pet. He was a few inches shorter than most dwarves, but he was as sturdy as a cannon. He had flowing orange hair and an ornate yet shockingly masculine beard that shimmered like fresh blood. He was rarely out of his armor, which he always kept polished to a shine, but when he was out of his plate cover, such as now, he made a point of keeping his helmet on- it was a symbol of his command, and a testament to his ferocity in battle. I had said earlier that it was luck that carried most as far as they go-Vyger was the exception.

Beside him was Flo. She was a night elf, so naturally she lorded above us, and wasn't ever especially comfortable on the chamberpot seats. She was gentle looking-sweet and quiet, like a princess. Her skin was as purple as the sky at sunset, and her hair was as richly festive as mistletoe. She had a selfish glow about her: contained within herself, masked to all, but you could still feel it in your eyes as you looked at her... the imprint of that heat, of the light she had locked away. She usually wore a heavy robe and a few jackets to fend off the freezing temperature, but when called to battle, she wore a rather peculiar set of armor (In addition to her Darnassian tabard). She protected herself where it mattered, but when she could afford to, she made a habit of exposing her skin-non-vital areas, such as her hips, shoulders, and butt were largely exposed to the unimpressed elements, and she bore the cold with the grit of a mountain goat. She had a history of proposals, love-letters, and other gifts of admiration from around the camp. They were unrequited.

Sandwiched between Flo and Poppi was Melissa Lingor. She was short, for a human woman, and was only a head or two taller than me, so she didn't look terribly awkward on the seats of the bar. She was a woman bruised-she didn't bear her many battle scars with the pride of some, but simply endured them with the same tired patience of a weary mother. Her skin was dark, her head was shaved, her eyes were as keenly sharpened as the blade of a untested warrior. She wore unrevealing, thick leather, which always had a new patch in it every time I saw it. She preferred fighting as a bear, although she sometimes liked to sneak alongside Flo as a cat.

Poppi Corkcap was at the end of the bar- as a gnome, he was easily the shortest of our group, although he insists he's tall for his race, reaching up to my chin when standing, as he was now. Clean-shaven with a few stray locks of pink hair on his balding head, he was easily the least imposing figure at the bar. His face was wrinkled and well-exposed to the flow of time, and his smile hinted at a wisdom far beyond my comprehension. He was the only one of us to walk into the bar in the same clothing he wore on the battlefield - an elegant robe decorated with a mystical pattern that almost melted off the cloth... colors painted on ice. He was a healer, and like me, he often faked his own death by using his sway over the light to keep his insides barely functioning while his outside was shred to bits.

"So it's agreed." Vyger announced to the group, all four of our heads craned to look over at our leader. "We'd sleep with 'n Orc, Marry a Tauren, and kill a Blood Elf."

"I wanna put it on the record that I'd rather Kill a Forsaken." Melissa interjected, to which Vyger nodded gruffly.

"Aye, it'll be a postscript. Any otha' dissentin' opinions?"

Me, Melissa, and Poppi all turned away and gave it another moments thought.

"Well, I guess I'd prefer to marry a Goblin!" Poppi squeaked, having remained suspiciously quiet during the main body of the conversation. "I'd like to sleep with a Tauren, though~ experience the size difference."

"I'd marry an orc before a Tauren." Melissa amended her previous position some more, her voice growing in thought. "Guy tauren are too... big. Bad for cuddling."

"Um... you know, now that you bring it up, I really like how trolls hips move, so-" I started, but I was interrupted by Vyger's annoyed belch as he finished off his mug of Thunder Ale.

"Awright! Light! F' I'd know ya'll gonna be so indecisive I woulda' stopped alf' an hour ago!"

"Let's just say," Flo concluded the conversation, as was her manner when she tired of them, "We'd sooner kill the lot of them."

"Cheers ta' that!" Our commander soulfully bellowed, and we all finished our drinks- since we were in a mountain range and our supply line had more important things to give us than mugs, we had to bring our own. Vyger and I, being proper dwarves, had antique steel mugs with our family insignia inscribed upon them, weighted with age and slightly rusted from the rich history of drinks contained within them. Melissa used a regular drinking glass, which was smaller than a mug and didn't do much to compliment the flavor of the booze. Flo had a waterskin which she liked having with her in battle she used to hold her drink. Once she let me try how booze tastes when contained in leather- -it was uncomfortable. Poppi, who swore he never drank before he became our friend, used a discarded gauntlet he found on the battlefield- after a blacksmith fixed up the gaps in the plates; it was the perfect size for him.

We passed our makeshift flasks over to the bartender, who took them graciously and began to refill. All eyes were on the man's wounded, scarred hands, and so hypnotized by the humble dignity of his motions, we found ourselves falling back into idle silence for a few moments. The booze in my blood hummed- my tongue ached as I watched each different glass get filled and returned to their owners. When the waterskin was full, thus completing the round, we grasped our drinks, and his hands gave us permission to talk again.

"So!" Poppi started, "I hear you got your proper companion, Marco!"

"It's about time." Flo closed her eyes and leaned over the bar, a malnourished smile growing on her face. "His practice companion wasn't much help in battle."

* * *

"It's over! KILL HIM!"

With a unified roar, bound by the thrill of the victory, Mittens sprung upon the ball of yarn with all the ferocity it could muster, snuffing out the last of its life.

* * *

"He was a damn good morale booster, though." Melissa lamented.

"Yeah," I continued the original conversation, Mittens capabilities as a morale booster aside, "A spider... thing named Tessa. It's asleep in our bunk as we speak."

"Aye, ain't she a beaut? Brought ere' all the way from Kalimdor, too!"

"...er... I guess a 'beaut' is a way to describe her..." I clenched my jaw slightly to prevent any words I might regret from slipping out.

"Oh? She's in the bunker?" Poppi's eyebrows shot up, and he looked over at Vyger. "Are you sure she's tame enough for that?"

"Don't rightly matter f' she is! She's gonna 'ave to get accustomed ta the cold weather up 'ere- she'll die 'f we keep 'er in the stables! Sides, I 'ave faith in Marco 'ere- she'll be s' agreeable as a puppy when e's done with er."

"His current method is certainly keeping her calm..." Flo almost snorted, managing to restrain herself from actually chuckling at her own joke.

"Oy. You shush." I playfully glared up at the elf. "Otherwise you'll be the first person I practice on."

"Bring it." She allowed herself to smirk.

"...wait, the FIRST person?" Melissa asked, turning to me with a sudden, intense distrust.

"Oh, sure, sure. First Flo, then I'll use her corpse to distract Poppi, and when he's trying to save her I'll 'practice' on him. Then with the healer and the sneak out of the way, you two will be easy to 'practice' on!" I menacingly wiggled my fingers at her while my voice grew progressively darker and mischievous, grinning like a man possessed by the end.

"Oh, stop pokin' fun at the girl." The other dwarf laughed, slapping my back with his iron-hard hand. "We both know Melissa'd eatcha first."

Melissa, who had been on the edge of her seat the whole time I spoke, cautiously eased back onto the chamberpot with Vyger's heavy, heaving laughter, and took a drink from her cup, eyeing me the whole time with a tint of genuine suspicion I hadn't expected to rouse from my little joke.

"But seriously, you'll be careful with her, right?" Poppi continued, "I mean, in the bunker? Light help me, if she ruins one of those paintings, why, I'll... I'll!" he began shaking his fist at the ceiling, apparently feeling it was an antiquate substitution to expressing his anger in words.

"I'll take her outside to train her, don't worry." I reassured the gnome as best I could. "But like Vyger says, if I leave her outside overnight, she'll probably die..."

And that'd be a REAL shame... then they'd have to give me an actual animal, light forbid.

"Alright. I'm holding you to that!"

"You're the last person in all of Azeroth I'd disappoint, Pops."

"'Ey now! Don't be sayin' that in fronta your commandin' officer!"

"You command my body- Pops got my heart."

All five of us politely laughed at our own private jokes, as our feet converse with the straw on the floor

* * *

The sun was down, and the stars weren't strong enough to brighten the clouds that enveloped the sky. Outside, the wind whistled, taunting those who escaped the cold it carried, and laughing at those unfortunate enough to be subjected to its wrath. One could barely make out the nearby mountain peaks- heavy black shadows pressed up against the darkness looming over us... almost perfectly camouflaged in the heavens.

Everyone had fallen asleep. The breathing, disharmonious but no less symphonic, reminded me of a thick forest during the heart of summer, but I couldn't really say why. When I closed my eyes, I could see it so vividly- the prickly brush, the crowded trees, the rich, green-heavy pallet, the fireflies bobbing like lures in a river, the sound of a loon in the distance...

And their breathing.

But there was a predator in the forest- its breath was shriveled, edged, and shallow. A strange, omnipresent sound, that followed me no matter how deeply into the forest I retreated.

Tessa's breath.

...It'd take a long time to get used to this.


	2. Book 1, Chapter 2: Giving

_"How do you survive?"_

_"You give everything else."_

* * *

"Okay... you got her?"

"She's not gonna budge."

The day stood in stark contrast to the night- the clouds were banished and the sun reigned now, it's inviting rays barely warming the ground below it until we almost felt welcome in the sub-arctic crevices of the mountains. No snow was falling, and the air was tamed-tired, perhaps, from it's mischief last night. I was standing on the opposite end of a small opening, stroking the barrel of my gun while Melissa was straddling the still-asleep Tessa to make sure she didn't immediately go on a rampage when she woke up from her two-day nap. On a nearby stump, Poppi sat, brandishing his humble wooden staff.

"...Okay. Okay." I breathed. "...let's do this."

I pulled my gun up and aimed it at the bug.

"If you hit me with that thing, I'll shove that gun where the sun don't shine." Melissa almost growled- she appeared more than a little uncomfortable holding the bug down, but Vyger was busy making excuses for the missing pet, and Flo sure as fel didn't have the lower-body strength to do a job like this.

"Relax- today's windless. If I couldn't make a shot like this, I would be dead by now."

"Well it's not too late."

There wasn't any real danger of me hitting her. The real trouble was between her legs. Something I probably should have rephrased.

I pulled the trigger, and with a obnoxious bang, the bullet hit it's mark: a shot of adrenaline to help pump the tranquilizing poisons out of her system. By now I think there was equal parts blood and drugs in her veins, but that's why Poppi was here... well, in addition to healing me and Melissa should we need it.

As I had hoped, with the adrenaline in it's body, it didn't take long for Tessa to begin to stir-first with an almost numb yawn, followed by a quivering in her limbs that came when adrenaline blitzed through her body; a landslide that pushed all the tranquilizers out of her.

She shuffled, moaned slightly, and attempted to lurch forward as all six of her eyes sporadically shot open. Melissa kept her pinned down with her manly thighs, though, and the bug wasn't able to get very far, only scraping at the ground with it's legs as it tired to regain itself, straining in vain against the woman's hold-who, by the way, didn't look especially happy having to clasp the disgusting creature between her legs.

"It's going to hurt itself soon!" Poppi called to me, my gun still pointed at Tessa as it squirmed. "Its got too many drugs in its system still!"

"So? Heal it!" I suggested, probably only illustrating my complete lack of understanding on how healing magic actually works.

Melissa, meanwhile, glared at Tessa and muttered to herself.

"Ugh. I haven't been this uncomfortable riding something since I got that gnomish mount."

For what it was worth, that particular adventure was uncomfortable to witness, too.

Poppi huffed, glaring at me for a moment, because I had raised his ire. "It's not just something you do willy-nilly! It's not to be taken lightly and I don't just throw heals around like noblegarden candy!" He slid off the stump and jogged over to the contained beast, the tail of his staff dragging behind him, creating a trail in the snow. "I'll still heal it, but don't be making those kinds of easygoing comments, silly goose." He smiled his previous indignation away, "Keep it still, I don't want to get my head bitten off."

"All things considered, I think I have more I need to worry about, here." Melissa groaned, her eyes shifting between the animal under her and my gun, which was still pointed in her direction.

"Just be cool, guys: once I'm sure this thing won't go on a rampage, I'll work on it by myself. Ya'll can go... chop wood or something."

Poppi, once at the monster's side, pulled his stick up and pressed it against the sea-blue shell, causing a small ring of light to encircle the tip of his weapon. The glow grew more intense, and with a heavenly 'popping' sound, he pulled the staff away, a small bubble of light being drawn out of the creatures skin. It'd float to the ground and dissolve into the snow, as if just a brief hallucination.

"That should do it..." Poppi muttered, stepping back as Tessa grew more livid, wiggling with even more energy as she finally returned to her true nature-the nature that had so far been oppressed by the plethora of drugs I'd given her.

Melissa's face contorted uncomfortably as she strengthen her grapple, although from my perspective it seemed unnecessary-Tessa was relaxing. She seemed more confused than upset, and was looking around without making any of the motions or gestures that suggests anger from an animal. Sure, she still struggled against being held (who wouldn't?) but otherwise seemed rather placid.

"...Melissa... loosen your grip, k?"

She gave me a curious look, but did as I instructed, slightly easing up her tension to give the beast a little more breathing room... and, as I'd anticipated, the animal didn't lash out violently.

"...let go of it. You two can go. I think I got this."

"Are you sure?" Poppi asked, eyebrow raised inquisitively, although Melissa didn't wait for confirmation and quickly dismounted the animal before I had a chance to change my mind.

"Yeah. I think I got this from here... she seems fairly tame."

"...alrighty!" Poppi shrugged. "Holler if you need anything!"

And he waddled off through the knee-deep snow, following Melissa, who seemed too gracious to be freed of her duty to think to say goodbye properly, which I was okay with. For training's sake, I had to do it with Tessa alone, as much as I didn't like the idea. They were only there to make sure she wouldn't go crazy and hurt herself or others before we could start.

We had the field to ourselves. Only our breath, given the shape of fog, moved.

My gun tracked her movement as she slowly started to the left. She was looking at me, twisting her head, clicking her mandibles curiously as she sized me up. I kept a straight, stern face, but I wasn't exactly confident-I had no idea what she was planning to do. Everything about her motions suggested the possibility that we'd have an agreeable encounter was just as likely as her attacking me. The uncertainly felt like a rock in my throat.

...I had an idea for a Haikou in that moment.

A rock in my throat

Stuns the air, locks in my mind

I yearn to dislodge.

I took a few deeper breaths. Rolled my fingers on the barrel of the gun. Touched the edge of my lips with the tip of my tongue.

She took a step forward-I stood strong, despite my instinctual desire to keep the distance between us where it was. I had to establish my dominance over her first; she wouldn't listen to a single thing I said if she thought she was better than me. I may not know much about these freaky spiders, but that was the standby rule for taming any beast of the wild: show them the wilderness is gone-that you had banished it-and the only way to survive in this new world is to follow the stronger man.

She continued to advance, and while my eyes may have trembled, my body was cemented. My gun stayed steady, and my breath was quiet... only the sound of the snow snapping under her legs gave a voice to the surrounding white. She was as bold as I could have ever imagined, never breaking stride out of fear of my gun, or my slightly twitching finger.

Her face was right in front of the barrel of the gun, now-only then did she stop. Our eyes met: no longer was my eye plastered to the scope. There was a cooling fire to her stare-a violent curiosity. They were the color of inviting ice, the kind you press to a burn, or use to soothe a swollen limb. I felt like the sourness of my soul, however little there was, had found a remedy in her presence. I was stronger.

I lost myself in those eyes for a second.

When I re-captured myself, I instinctively took a step back- to which Tessa squeaked, clicking her mandibles together in pleasure as she began to frolic in the snow. I stopped and stared at her, confused, until I realized that she had "won". She showed me she was stronger.

"...yeah, like fel. We're doing that again!"

She paused, and twisted her head at me.

"You heard me- go back to where you started, it's time for round two!"

* * *

The second time she advanced on me I did much better, and I didn't step back at all, even after elongated stares were exchanged.

"Yeah, how'd you like that? First time was a fluke!"

She huffed, and spat a cluster of webbing into my eye.

"Gah!"

I fell to the ground, dropping my gun, and started clawing at my face, trying to free myself from the blinding effects of her silk.

* * *

"No-That's BAD. BAD Tessa!"

My eyes and face were somewhat red, the web having a weak venom in it, and the snow having drawing the blood out from under my skin from when I was rolling around in it. However, I was ultimately no worse for the wear, unless you wanted to bring my pride into consideration, which was in considerably worse shape. Thank the light there were lots of empty fields so close to our camp- I'd never be able to live this down were there witnesses.

She seemed more or less indifferent to my chastising-and apparently also felt the need to re-establish her "dominance" of me, because in the middle of turning away from me, she quickly reversed momentum and shoved her face into mine-I yelped, and my index finger immediately clamped down, as if firing my gun. Fortunately for her, though, I had dropped it when she attacked me last, so I didn't accomplish anything in doing it.

But by that point I was tired of this bull. I was quickly losing my place, and if I didn't do SOMETHING to regain control...

So, after I calmed down somewhat from her little scare, I smacked her. Right in the face.

"Bad. I'm your master, do what I say!"

It went just as well as you'd expect.

She lunged forward to bite me, and instinctively I raised my arm, and she bit into that. I wasn't wearing my mail that day, so her teeth got right into my flesh. I raised my fist and jabbed her neck, but her hold was steadfast. She twisted her head, knocking me off my feet and pushing me to the ground. She let go of my arm and tried to grab my face, but with both hands free I clapped her head. She staggered back, and I got to my feet with a quick jump.

Her opportunity taken, and her finishing move foiled, she stepped back- our eyes started to wrestle as neither of us dared move. I couldn't be sure if that was a genuine assassination attempt, or a simple spar to try to illustrate how much more deserving of control she thought she was, but either way, it had failed, and neither of us seemed sure how to appropriately respond to the action-do we trade blows? Dare we trust the other if we let our guard down? Do we continue to stand here in the snow and wait for nature to knock us BOTH out?

"...alright. I don't like you, and you don't like me."

She clicked a few times.

"But we're gonna be fighting together whether we like it or not. And you won't be lasting very long without my direction."

She tilted her head.

"Heck, after my training, you'd be able to kill me, no sweat."

She stepped back- then pounced at me. I twisted to the side, she flew past me, and I slapped the back of her head as she did.

"You're savage- Orc's are savage. You're an animal, and better than that."

She turned around, and hissed. I wasn't sure if she could understand what I was saying, but the words felt good in my ear-I was directing myself more than I was her, and I felt my spirit harden with my words. She lifted herself up on her hind legs, and spread her free legs open, trying to grab me. I jabbed the arm-pits of her middle arms and ducked to avoid the top ones. She fell onto her back.

"See? Now imagine if I had a weapon! You'd be DEAD by now!"

She wiggled, managing to pull herself to her feet. She stopped trying to attack me, and instead dipped her head-a sign of submission. I had to stay stoic and powerful on the outside, but on the inside I was giddy-I'd done it! I'd gotten that damn thing to pay attention to me! Now all I had to do is train it, and possibly find the time to even like it!

"Attagirl. Lets get you back to base and fed, alright?"

I turned to walk back to the camp, but before I could even take more than three steps ahead, I felt one of her legs rubbing up against my back. Turning to investigate, my face met with another glob of webbing.

"MOTHERF-"

* * *

So the damn thing was... "playful". That, or some sort of fashion critic who genuinely thought I'd look better with a mask of bug silk covering my eyes. Either way, there was a line between training an animal and animal abuse, a line I refused to cross, so I wasn't going to beat that out of her like I had beaten the attempted murder out of her system. Back at base, she was extremely easygoing, and didn't attack my comrades as she had attacked me. Heck, she didn't even get feisty around Melissa, the woman whose legs she woke up in-between.

Training animals is a lot like training yourself. When I was first handed a gun, there were a dozen things I need to learn before I could use it, let alone treat it with the respect it deserved. I had to learn how to carry it, how to hold the trigger properly (It's not as simple as they make it sound in books, lemmie tell you) how to clean it-which meant I had to know the mechanics inside and out. I had to know how to fire it, and how to minimize the recoil. Had to know how to load it. Had to figure out if the nuzzle was straight. Needed to learn how the weather and wind would affect trajectory. The list went on and on and on...

Using a gun is like romancing death. You have to know it's ticks, you have to communicate with it, and you have to care for it-and she'll give you her power over life itself if you do it just right.

Tessa is similar. We don't so much train as we do coordinate-my words and my bullets are the symphony, and her feet and fangs are the dancers. We depend on each other, and find completeness in each others presence. A conductor can play his melodies into the empty air, a dancer can swirl to the twisting solidarity of silence, but only together do they find fullness. Together, we seduce violence, and suggest the horrors of it's visage upon the audience of our composition.

...which right now was just some dummies with horde flags on their back, but we were getting there. Getting into a grove was the first step of many. She may not like me terribly, and I might not care for her at all, but in spirit, we needed to be one and the same.

...working into the above analogy, however, right now, I was playing a soft waltz and she was breakdancing.

With a snap, a bullet tore through the edge of the dummy, leaving a sizable hole and a small forest of splinters where there was once solid wood-a hole that wound have been in Tessa's head had I not pulled the gun up at the last second.

"No! Tessa! Stop stop stop!"

She turned around and glared at me, spitting out a chunk of wood she had bitten off the target.

"Remember- behind and to the side! If you're in front of them I could hit you!"

She huffed, and slowly meandered back to my side, getting into position to charge again.

"Alright. On my cue... and..."

I fired at the dummy, intentionally missing it's beaten wooden body-at the roar of my gun, she charged, the parted snow clearing her way to the dummy (She had effectively plowed a path with her own body from all the times we had been doing this). She bashed into it, then tried to step around it to clear my shot of the dummy- but in doing so, she left herself open, and stopped attacking.

"Wrong again! Tessa, we've gone over this! You bite, use the dummy as a pivot point, and let the momentum carry you behind it!"

She stared hard at me, then reared her head back, spitting another long-ranged gob of webbing at me to illustrate her annoyance. I was able to duck just in time, though, letting the silk sail over my head and land on Poppi (he was behind me, chatting with a fellow soldier about something) who hadn't been paying attention.

"...sorry!"

"It's okay! I've been meaning to get a toupee for a while now!" He laughed good naturally, prodding at the web on his head with his gloved hands.

I signed. It seemed like we could communicate... she always had at least a vague idea of what I was saying. Whether we UNDERSTOOD each other or not, well, that was a different question entirely. I turned back to the spider and gave her a cruel, impatient stare-why wouldn't the damn thing just do as it's told?

My brain and eyes turned to Tessa, I wasn't able to devote any attention to the rest of the camp, and to my ears, the surrounding conversations became as ambient as the snow that hugged my ankles. It might of been to my advantage to have been paying attention, however...

"S' a pity we can' find yer Silithid- really is, ma'am, but she's jus' a trophy animal anyway, right?"

Coming out of a nearby building, the general, followed by Vyger, were still conversing over the matter of Tessa and her sudden 'disappearance'.

"It's little more than an annoyance. Pity the thing's probably dead by now." The general stated matter-of-factly, her cold stare contending with the mountain range for the most frigid location this side of Azeroth. "Regardless, I-"

Unbeknownst to me, as I was barking commands at my increasingly annoyed animal companion, and to the great horror of Vyger, the general's eye quickly found her lost animal pet, and sharpened significantly.

"Well, Sgt. Anvilthrow, it seems my animal has come back on her own accord. And made a friend."

From what I'm told, her words were so rich with sarcasm, if you could put a pick to them you'd be able to afford a motorcycle.

"Er... musta found er' in the cold!"

"Must have. I'll talk with you again later."

She stepped forward, and it wasn't until she was at my shoulder did I even realize she was there. I didn't know her name, but she was unmistakable-she was a dwarven woman used by her occupation until it had taken everything she cared for. Her face was worn by both battle and age that it was impossible to tell what was a scar and what was a wrinkle, although she had both in abundance. Her hair was gray, thin, and cut short, while her only good eye (the other covered behind an eye-patch) had so much raw expression it could play the role of a muse for a artist. She still wore mail armor, even though she long retired from the front lines, which by it's very state spoke more of the nature of war than any words could possibly communicate. She kept her right arm wrapped up in her ironforge cloak- no one's sure if it needed support because it was broken, if it was so hideously scarred even she was humiliated by it, or if it was simply colder than her left.

Naturally, being caught with her pet, I felt as if I'd been spotted sleeping with her husband, but with an impersonal hand on my shoulder, she forced me to look at her through the gravity of contact alone.

"Your dislike of this animal forces unreasonable expectations onto her. She won't learn any faster than a bear or eagle. Calm down."

My wide eyes quivered slightly, before easing as her words began to take shape in my mind. I'm not sure why she wasn't angry at me, or even how she knew what the problem was, but as I rolled the words around the landscape of my mind, I realized she was right. Just as we have high expectations of the people we love, we assume too much of the things we hate. And I certainly didn't like Tessa.

...In that spirit, I realized as I watched the general distance herself from me again after that momentary connection, that before I worked on anything else with her, I needed to do a little training I've never undertaken with any animal-train myself to like her.

...or at least tolerate her.


	3. Book 1, Chapter 3: Guilt

Authors Notes: Well, chapter 3 is up and ready to go. I'm very grateful for both reviews I've gotten so far, and I hope they're the first of many! Although I suppose if I wanted views I shouldn't have written WoW fanfiction. XD

Hope you have fun with it~

* * *

_"How do you survive?"_

_"Don't let the guilt consume you."_

* * *

"Alright. We came off on the wrong foo- er... whatever it is spiders have."

Tessa and I had gone back to the empty field where we first sparred, to give us a little privacy. It was colder today than it was yesterday, so I was wearing a heavier coat and a little armor. Plus, a few stray drops of snow were falling from the sky, as if the clouds above us were dissolving under the heat of the sun behind them.

"So, we're gonna try again- on the RIGHT foot/spider leg ending this time, alright?"

Tessa shot me a dry look, but I had to be the better man here- shouldn't be hard, considering my company was a spider.

"So, lets begin again. M' names Marco Ironflask. And you're Tessa."

She sputtered a response, although it was as uninspired as her name.

"...right. Well, as it so happens, I was subjected to a ton of trust exercises during boot camp, so I'm sure we'll be willing to take a bullet for the other by the end of this, alright?"

...I think she rolled her eyes. Hard to tell, I can't see her pupils.

"Alright- first thing's first. A simple catching thing. You close your eyes, fall over, and I'll catch ya."

I walked behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, trying my best to not touch her. With an annoyed hiss, she went limp, and as her legs sprawled all across the ground, I found myself barely able to support her weight.

"...s-see? I caught you!"

She stayed down.

"You can get back up now!"

She didn't move.

"...Please?!"

It was too much weight, and my arms gave in- I retracted them, and she fell fully into the snow, writhing about a bit as the white got into her face. With a hiss, she got back to her feet and glowered at me, to which I glowered back.

"Well I'm only supposed to CATCH you! Not carry you!"

Thank god she wasn't a mount- there'd be a really awkward follow-up to that statement if she was. Either way, her indignation was nothing she got violent over, as she didn't strike me for my failure. I was about to say "Now it's my turn", but a few things stopped me- the first and foremost being that, considering my 'performance', I doubted she'd be eager to catch me and save me from suffering her 'fate', and the second, which I realized almost immediately afterwords, was that she didn't really have a means by which to catch me- rather, all she could really do is stand under me while I faint on top of her.

Okay, so, this wasn't that great an idea. But that's the great thing about ideas- we're allowed to have more than one.

* * *

There was a tent, in our camp. The cloth itself ugly worn orange, and smelled of tar and coal. If snow was given too much control over the top, it'd be quick to submit and collapse under the weight, so occasionally it'd be jarred to shake it off. It was like a big furry beast on the edge of the camp. It heaved, shook, trembled- it quaked, shifted, moaned- and most of the soldiers dared not approach it.

It was a place which smoked, on occasion. A place where a few different voices muffled by distance combine to create an heavily deformed conversation with itself. A place that didn't have a body, but blood all the same.

It demanded respect, but it only received a wide berth.

Within it, there were stories disguised as prestige and pride. Medals were pinned to cloaks, trophies-both torn from the battlefield and shaped from gold and adored with rubies-were housing the dust from the winds outside. But mostly it was maps and figurines. The whole world flattened onto paper, and the sun balancing on the tip of a wick. Tiny statues, crudely carved from wood and coated in a bronze that was once a shield before it met with the flames of the forge, were positioned as carefully onto the map as gears within a clock. Letters and broken wax seals covered any remaining leftover wood, and only when the flames flicked just right did the light allow you to catch a glimpse of the words-scratched upon the paper with a pen only occasionally dressed in ink.

That day, the day I was out working with my pet, Vyger, The General, and two other commanders were seated around the table, eyes scouring the most recent letter received by high command, which rested on a map of the mountainous region they were currently stationed.

"...so then. You've finished reading, Vyger?" The General asked, her voice surprisingly emotional when compared to the lifelessness it commonly conveyed.

"Done and done." He leaned back, his face a twisted medley of worry and excitement.

"Then I'll just tell you other two flat out," She grabbed the letter with her good hand and crushed it-like a insect. "Our orders are thus- we're to take Alteric Valley."

The other two sergeants recoiled, fear striking their faces as the orders sunk in. So much so that one raised his stammering voice.

"W-what?! Alteric Valley? We have little over 40 elite soldiers with us! Even combined with the people stationed on the northern end of the valley..."

"We'd have a sizable enough force, if we approach intelligently." The general finished for him, placing both hands on the map and examining the pieces. "The Horde just finished construction of a second tower, adjacent to their forward fort. They're getting aggressive, and have recently moved their own 40-man encampment to a nearby area. We have every reason to suspect they'll try to take the whole valley themselves, unless we do it first."

"A pre-emptive strike!?" The other asked, shocked by the prospect. "But, but, we're not ready!"

"And why the fel not?!" Vyger slammed his palm into the table, sending vibrations strong enough to tip the figurines over doing so. "My men are the best trained and most prepared in the whole of the Alliance! We'll lead the charge! Burn every one of those crude Orc towers to the ground!"

"Well put, Vyger." The general nodded to him. "We can't call for reinforcements, our armies are spread too thin as is, and any guards Ironforge could spare would just get in the way, or decorate the war-pikes of those Frostwolf dogs. We don't outnumber them but we're the stronger force regardless- we have better troops and a smarter command."

She pushed 3 statues to the very tip of the northern map, her eye sharpening as her brain carefully considered the many strategies.

"...our best bet is to get our men ready in the far-north cave, then wait. Once we get word the Horde forces have begun to advance, we'll release our 40-man army-while the horde is busy trying to capture our northern bases, we'll trust our men to take their now-unguarded towers first, and kill their general before they can reach ours. Once he's dead, the Horde will have to surrender."

"Who's in command over there?"

"Vanndar Stormpike. He's a fel of a fighter- give him enough axes and he'd hold off the entire horde for a month. Not unlike Vyger here."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, General!"

They shared a private laugh to a public joke, the other two men in attendance far too concerned about the mission at hand.

"When do we move out?" Vyger asked, his voice so abrim with confidence that the tent could barely contain it, and to keep from drowning the other three had to drink it in.

"We leave in four days. We strike on the fifth, if our predictions are accurate."

"Perfect…"

* * *

"Alright, well," I rolled my shoulder, still Tessa's weight still slightly lingering under my skin, like an invisible bruise, "Next up, we have…"

I have to admit, the more I thought about this, the less sense it made. Not only were most of these exercises designed for intelligent humanoids who could make sense of the implications of each activity, but a lot of it resolved around talking, or the assumption that we had a two arms and legs and walked upright, which was probably a fair assumption to make.

So really… there was only one last activity we could do. Coincidentally, it was the hardest one-the one reserved for the final day, when friendships had been tested and bonds had been forged that would be assured to survive it's rather straining demands. But I was getting desperate-I've had this bug for three days now, and we couldn't do any fighting together if we couldn't work together, and the longer it took for us to get to our actual training, the bigger our disadvantage would be when we're inevitably called to arms.

"…the big one."

I dropped my gun, which quickly imprinted itself upon the snow.

* * *

_"A final exercise?" I asked, head tilted, a cocky, stupid grin twisting on my face. "Pffft, yeah, because the three-legged race jut wasn't 'intense' enough." _

_My partner, Flo, snorted, and looked down at me with a bemused delight._

_"It was intense for me. Try having a harry midget tied to your leg."_

_"Don't pretend you didn't like it."_

_"Like I said-it was intense." She winked._

_"SILENCE, please." Our instructor impatiently shouted, "Rest assured there is not a single joke you recruits can make I haven't heard three times already, so you can save the 'witticisms' for your drunk friends." _

_That shut us up nice and good._

_"This is a special exercise, Macro and Foinu-the kind you have to take if you're going to be fighting alongside each other in the same unit. This will truly test your trust for one another-and the other men and women who serve the Alliance."_

_The entire unit was subjected to exercises like this. I'd fallen into the arms of every man and woman in my battalion, and they've fallen into mine. I hopped next to Flo and Melissa in three-legged races, and dragged Poppi behind me in others, although I wasn't their friend at the time. I shared my dreams with strangers and forgotten the dreams of friends, and laughed awkwardly at a poorly-phrased joke of a clearly uncomfortable green-horn. But for this final one, they paired together two people who seemed to get along-in my case, it was the fresh-faced night-elf Flo, who was just as virginal to war as I'd been. I wouldn't be doing this with Poppi, or Melissa, or the guy whose unfunny joke warranted a laugh regardless._

_"Yes, sir." We said in unison, arms at our side._

_"Better. Now…" he turned around, and gestured his tree-like arms to the door in front of us. "Enter. You'll get further instructions when you get inside."_

_We smiled at each other-that friendly, distant, but still somehow insincere smile you shared with casual acquaintances, the people you enjoyed seeing but never spent time with, and together we walked into the room, which was pitch black. Neither of us were afraid of the dark._

_When both of us entered, the door was closed, then locked with a forbidding click._

_When the lights came up, we saw a chair-an everyday chair, made of wood and stripped of sharp edges, with support for your behind and a place to rest your arms-, and a black curtain in front of it. A distant, mechanical voice instructed us-"One of you sit in the chair provided. The other, please go past the curtain."_

_We stared at each other for a moment, our smiles gone, and eyes shimmering with a untouchable fear-like soap, trying to get a firm grasp of it only resulted in it sliding out of your hand._

_"…I'll take the chair." I nodded, walking past her and taking a seat. All her options exhausted, she gave me a final, reassuring nod, and slipped behind the curtain-to a place I couldn't see. There wasn't a sound between us-something about the walls ate the echoes of our voices, or the rasp of our breaths, or the soft slap of her leather boots against the stone floor. Not even my wooden chair, under my thick Dwarven body, so much as squeaked. _

_"Participant #1, Are you ready?" The mechanical voice asked-clearly pre-recorded._

_"Yeah…" I answered, assuming I was Participant #1. I was fascinated by the sheer emptiness of the room-there was nothing except the slight sway of the curtains to distract a person from their own thoughts. Everything was so bland, my mind felt the urge to retreat into itself because there was simply nothing else interesting to examine. The walls were gray, the ceiling was gray, the wall was gray, and there was no dust or interesting shapes or shadows to give my eyes a contrast to the oppressive dullness._

_"Very good." The voice replied, and suddenly I felt an energy flood through me-some paralyzing magic keeping me seated in the chair, preventing any movement from the neck up. I could still breathe, thank the light. _

_"W-what?!"_

_"What's wrong?!"_

_"I-I can't move!"_

_"Stay where you are, participant #2, and continue with the test. Before you, you'll see a button. Pressing that button will immediately give you five gold. However, participant #1 will suffer painful electric shocks each time you press the button."_

_Participant #2 was Flo. I couldn't see past the curtains, so I wasn't sure if there really was a button._

_"…well? Is there?" I asked, my nerves starting to steady after the shock of the sudden paralysis wore off._

_"Yeah, there's a button here."_

_"…don't press it, by the way." I urged her, half-smiling._

_"For five whole gold? I dunno, that's awfully tempting." She joked, her tone making light of what might have been a dark situation._

_"I guess that's true. You could buy ten whole mugs of some high-quality ale with that sort of scratch." I smirked fully, knowing this was just going to be something else we could joke about later._

_"Oooooh- don't SELL it! I'll just press the button if you do!"_

_"Well, I have to be honest, my trust is nothing compared to-"_

_"*beep* Participant #2 has earned "5" Gold."_

_Suddenly, at the crown of my head, I felt it-a surge of energy. A lash of pain that shredded down my body-agony, heat, like my bones had just been set aflame, and was being cooked from the inside-out. I shook, the magic holding me down and preventing me from flying out of the chair in a fit. _

_I screamed. I screamed because I was afraid to bite down. Afraid that little bit of pressure would make my body explode. _

_"Marco?! MARCO?! Are you okay?! What's going on?!" I heard her yell as the pain subsided, leaving me with only the memory of the impossible pain that was once coursing through me. The memory seemed so real, though… like a shadow of my suffering lingered in the folds of my muscles, gnawing at my nerves. I thrust my eyes open, and glared concentrated hatred through the cloth between us._

_"W-what the fel, Flo?! What did you do that for?!"_

_"What do you mean?" She asked, her voice sounding alarm, but eerily calm._

_"I was JOKING! Don't you dare press that button again!"_

_"…I didn't-"_

_"*beep* Participant #2 has earned "10" Gold."_

_The memory became real-like a ghost given a body again, I felt the same painful rush slide down my form, prompting me to scream once again. It was the only release I had for the suffering. _

_"F-Flo!" I heaved the words out as the pain subsided, vanishing behind the aches of my body, waiting to strike again. "W-why did you…?"_

_"Why did I what?! I haven't done anything!"_

_"T-then how come…" I had to remind myself to inhale. My breath tasted like overcooked meat. "...I keep getting shocked!? You think y-you can play dumb?!"_

_"Look, I'm not pressing the damn button! Why would I do that to you?"_

_"I don't know…" I breathed, my lungs feeling like they were about to burst, "I don't know why you're doing it… I thought we were fri-"_

_"*beep* Participant #2 has earned "15" Gold."_

_I thrust my head backwards as another shock inched through me. I could count the inches the electricity traveled, I could almost hear the pop of my flesh as the heat cooked it. My fingers turned white. Something ruptured behind my eyes, and my vision became red and cloudy as some blood-vessels burst. My throat clogged in the middle of my pained scream, and I could only mutely gasp. _

_I slouched forward, head hanging limp as my back is forced to stand straight, in attention. I thought I smelled something burning. Some blood leaked from the tip of my eye and landed on my thigh._

_"…is…" I wheezed, unable to comprehend what she was doing back there, "…this about money? Please… Flo… s-stop… I can… I have money… okay?"_

_"This isn't about money, Marco. What's going on?! I haven't pressed the button, I swear!"_

_"Please… just… p-please… I'm begging… d-don't…"_

_"*beep* Participant #2 has earned "20" Gold."_

_I don't even try to scream this time. I just bite. I clench down on my lips like a starved man would bite into a steak-weakly, desperately, trying to curb the unbearable pain inside of him with whatever self-inflected masochism he could give himself, even though salivation was so close. I felt everything around me explode, breaking apart in a rolling boil... I thrashed my head about, trying to free it from my body, but to no avail._

_"Marco…?"_

_I couldn't say anything. Not at first. _

_"…Marco…?"_

_"N-no… no more! No more! S-stop it, Flo! No more! No more!" I had no idea where the energy in the words came from, but I wasn't strong enough to stop them. "No more! No more! No mo-"_

_"*beep* Participant #2 has earned "25" Gold."_

_My mind went blank. All I knew was, when I came too, there was a small stream of blood coming out of my mouth, and my lips were almost bitten in half. I could barley breathe. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to go home and sleep. _

_But I wouldn't. I couldn't. Because there was now a gun in my lap, and I could move my body again._

_For a second, all I could do is stare at it. I wasn't sure how it got there, or what it meant-was this the temptings of some dark, malevolent being? A sort of taunt? Was it the physical form of justice? Karma given shape? Could I really hold it? _

_I grabbed it. It was there. It felt perfect in my hands. My body felt shallow, a shell of a man with his hallow insides vibrating with the pain from earlier, but this weapon… gave me substance. Anchored my body back into this world. And so submerged, I couldn't escape my anger. _

_That's what this gun was for._

_I got up. I burst through the curtains and glared down the sight, bearing my teeth at Flo, who was standing over the tiny button-a button so small it wouldn't even make a sound when pressed- and pointed the gun at her. My body was shaking, my aim was unsteady, but I could still clearly see her face. She was stunned._

_"…Marco… what are you doing… put the gun down."_

_"I told you to stop! I BEGGED you to stop, you stupid whore!" I screamed at her, blood mixed with sweat mixed with saliva spraying in the air._

_"Marco… please, I promise you… I didn't press the button! I didn't press the button!"_

_She was scared. I could see it in her face. Terror. She was scared of me. Scared of the gun. Or was she scared of the results of her actions? Frightened that she might of sold her life for twenty-five gold? She backed up, and raised her hands. _

_"Don't…. shoot."_

_"I begged you. I BEGGED YOU!"_

_"Please…"_

_I looked into her eyes, and I knew it-I knew I couldn't kill her. Even though every ache in my body begged me to kill her, right then and there, to avenge myself for the agony she put me through for her own selfish ends, for her betrayal of our brand-new friendship… I just couldn't. _

_So I pulled the trigger and shot her kidney instead._

_She fell to the ground, clutching the gaping wound in her side, crying out in pain as her blood started to pool around her collapsed form. She whimpered, gasping for air as the bullet radiated the same kind of agony I had endured throughout her whole body… "Wh-why… I didn't… I didn't press the button…"_

_She cried into the stone, and I stepped back, letting the gun drop to the ground, staring coldly at her as our instructor walked in, with a priest. They walked past me-didn't even give me a second look, as they kneeled down before Flo-the priest putting a hand on her wound as she whimpered into the floor, and the instructor, kneeling before her head, placing a small bag of coins next to her face._

_"Strange." He commented to himself, just loud enough for everyone to hear, "Most don't even press the button once."_

_I didn't bother to pick up the gun as I walked out of the room._

* * *

The gun had gotten a good deal of snow mixed into its parts, and I knew I'd have to clean it out later, but that was okay. As I stood there, with Tessa's teeth digging into my arm, my eyes transfixed on hers, and hers, on mine. She was biting me because I gave her permission. And I gave her permission to bite me ANYWHERE-I even extended my neck, in case she wanted to bite that.

But she chose my arm. Because she understood why I was offering. People bond over different things-love, trust, loneliness, fear… but what I took away, from that day so long ago, was that people bonded best over pain.

Which is why she didn't complain that I had my knife pressed into her side.


	4. Book 1, Chapter 4: Begging

_"How do you survive?"_

_"You beg for death."_

* * *

"Wow, that's quite a wound." Poppi ran his fingers over his chin, examining the crater in my arm caused by Tessa's biting. "It's a dang shame I don't treat IDIOTS_!"_

He dug his fingers into the holes and twisted, causing me to gasp in pain and roll off the bed in the infirmary and into the ground, which seemed more supportive than my friendly healer right now.

"H-hey!"

"It's common sense your arm will hurt if you let a giant spider bite it, you big stupid moron! Did you think 'venom' was just some synonym for 'spider spit'?"

He'd dig into his pocket and throw a few tablets into my chest.

"Take these. You won't lose your arm." He ordered.

"A-and the pain?" I asked, pulling myself back up.

"You'll just have to bite the bullet. Don't you have bullets to spare? You'll have hundreds of bullets you won't ever get to use if you keep letting bugs use your arm as poison bank!"

"I told you it was for a trust exercise!" I indignantly defended.

"Well trust me when I say I don't care WHY you let it happen! Just don't let it happen again!"

"Geeze, what the fel spat in your lunchtime rations?!"

Poppi didn't respond-he just waved his hand dismissively and stomped off, leaving me to crawl back into the stone-slab bed by myself. Chest heaving as I settled back into my resting spot, I took another look around. The infirmary was a product of a time that had been anticipated but had never really arrived-a place where we'd need to treat our wounded with practical medicine instead of priests or shamans. But while we'd never been without a healer, we still had an infirmary, and it gave Poppi the luxury of being able to indulge in his extremely specific healing practices. This was hardly the first time he's refused to lay his hands on someone on principle: Just two weeks ago, we had a guy break his leg when he tried to jump to the bottom of a gorge rather than walk down the nearby incline. Poppi smacked him over the head a few times, chewed him out for having the intelligence of a lobotomized mule, then refused to heal him, making one of the other healers on camp do the job instead.

Presumably one of them would come over soon enough to treat the bite wound.

The building was softer than most. There were whine linens everywhere-on the bed in the form of sheets, between the beds as buffer zones, fluttering in the wind as they acted as drapes-there was more cloth in here then there'd ever be wounded men. We've collectively bleed more than enough to stain every inch of cloth in this building red, and in not doing so, it sort of felt like they were cheated out of their purpose. Much as we wrinkle with age and experience, cloth is stained as it's used and stories are acquired... yet these were just as clean and smooth as a newborn's head, for the years they've seen.

...a haikou:

I don't pity the old

Swept under ages of silver breath

To me, they are kings

I can hardly say I was resentful we had healers like Poppi at our disposal, but an empty hospital was somehow very depressing to me. Maybe not so much because there were no patients... but because there were no doctors.

Speaking of, someone was at the door. I guess the shaman had arrived. She was a Draenei, and not someone I often got to meet, even though we were in the same platoon-from a distance, I could tell she had a feathery laugh, and kind, if not crude eyes, like a children's drawing of a puppy. Her skin was a pale blue, while her purple hair was short, neatly trimmed, and even had a flower tucked into the ear.

But that could hardly be called her most notable feature. The alliance was proud of it's "acquisition" of the Draenei, and from the moment they had joined our ranks our leaders had proudly painted elegant pictures of these extraordinary beings-proud, chiseled men with chests as broad as barns, and bright-eyed, strong willed women who could be confused for a mountain road with all the curves they carried. And it was a image we seized with a great hunger-we wanted to know we'd be invincible with them at our side, the edge we needed to finally end the war-and even as that newness faded, we clung to that exotic beauty that seemed to define them as a species.

So it was weird-for me, for everyone in the camp-to see a obese Draenei. It was sort of a betrayal, a trip into the uncanny valley every time we saw her. We'd think "Don't you know? You're supposed to be fit and attractive! You're doing it wrong!", but we'd dare not say it, because our brains could never articulate our dislike for her in a way we'd understand. So we just shyed away from her. We felt bad, noticing how she was always alone around camp, reading or practicing or making leather armor, but we couldn't bring ourselves to forgive her for whatever sin she had committed.

So she was alone. Rejected, I suppose. But if she held a grudge against us for it, I could never tell. In fact, when she saw me, she smiled at me fully, her teeth lined perfectly against one another, and walk over, her whole body vibrating.

"Marco, right?" Her voice sounded strained, as her throat was being crushed under the fat of her body, but it would have sounded even more unnatural otherwise.

"Yeah. Poison in the arm." I solemnly informed her.

"Lets see what I can do about that..."

All throughout the healing process, I never bothered to talk to her, or even ask her name. And I hated myself for it.

* * *

"...n' so I said 'flattery will get you everywhere, general!' and she gave m' the cutes' lil' wink ou' ever did see-why, I suspect she was tryin' to say somethin' to me!"

Vyger had a habit of talking right past his audience. He was never talking for his own sake, or because he loved his voice, but because, right behind the people he was talking with, there was an invisible audience, that only Vyger could see, that was rapt with attention, and hung on every word. Apparently this audience had a great deal of energy that we couldn't feel, because even though Poppi, Flo, Melissa and I were busy feeling mortified at the prospect of being called into battle, and the rest of his story had become white noise, he was continuing with as much vigor as ever before-revitalized by the gasps and applause of a crowd we couldn't see.

"So then' I asked, 'When we movin' out?', n' she said 'four days!', n-"

"Wait." Melissa stopped him, leaning over the counter to look past me and Flo to glare at the Dwarf on the other end of the bar. "Four days?!"

"I know!" Vyger stopped his story to spit on the ground. "We could be ready in two!"

"I'm not sure she's impatient." I add onto her comment. "We can't go in four days... Tessa and I won't be ready in four days!"

"Well, s' all ya got, laddie." He shrugged, tapping his finger on the body of his mug to prompt the bartender into refilling it. "I got faith in ya-she'll be s' tame as Mittens before the third day's up!"

"What happened to Mittens, anyway?" Melissa asked, slouching back into her seat.

* * *

"Alright, I know you're looking forward to your first minion... but you sort of suck at binding demons to your will, so I got you a little something to practice with before you try summoning an imp."

"...a cat?"

"Twice as effective as a Succubus if you use it right."

* * *

"I dunno." I shrugged, taking a little less than a sip of my drink, just to stain my teeth with the flavor.

"Well, gosh, still. Four days! I guess it was silly of me to think we'd be here forever!" Poppi smiled, his gauntlet of booze untouched.

"This will be our first real battle as elites..." Flo mused, the chin resting on the back of her hand as she stared deep into the chipped wooden table. "Everything else was just practice."

"Don't put it that way." Melissa half smiled. "The battle's we survived were important, just... not quite as big."

"Damn right. All thos' battles before, Lass-that was jus' killin' horde. A noble pasttime indeed, jus' nothin' the command's gonna notice. This ere', thou-we're in the spotlight. S' not jus' about survival and killin'... s' about winnin'."

We all went quiet. Soberly so, each of us reflecting on battles past, and the insignificance of it all-everything we've given so far was just so we could give even more, on a bigger stage. Was this where the real battles began? Was all that fear-all that bloodshed-all that hatred and anger and sorrow and loss-just the preliminaries? Had we finally suffered just enough that our superiors could say "Now you're ready for the REAL horrors of war..."

Vyger noticed, and laughed.

"Don' forget-since the start, we've been fightin' for honor-honor in our names, honor for our race, honor for the alliance-now we're jus' trying to use that honor ta conquer the people we've ad' to kill to get it-and validate their sacrifices."

Vyger understood that perhaps better than anyone. To find honor, you needed two things-a cause, and someone to kill in the name of it.

One wouldn't work without the other. So we owed a great deal to the people we've killed... we wouldn't be honored without them.

"Anyway, as I was sayin," he picked up the conversation after we failed to respond to his earlier prompt, "she said 'four days', to which I..."

* * *

The news of the upcoming battle lingered on our shoulders, like a shawl made of carcasses strewn on lead, and it was far too heavy for anyone except Vyger to be in good spirits. The implication scared us, a little-that someone could get so used to the kinds of fights we'd be participating in that even at the twilight of war they could be in such good spirits as to talk about their days and laugh to their own jokes with three times the usual gusto to compensate for everyone else's silence.

We'd been in battles before, true, but calling them battles was unfair, and calling surviving a "victory" even less so. Since I only recently got my first 'real' animal companion, Tessa, in the previous skirmishes I had one of Ironforge's many bears on loan. They were the kind of beasts that were half mad, with only enough discipline to know that whatever a dwarf pointed to needed to get killed. I met them two minutes before each battle, and I knew them for less than ten before they died-the first was impaled during a charge, the second was caught in a mage's explosion, and the third I just lost track of as it chased after a mounted enemy. They were never named, only given a strange combination of letters and numbers, and at the rate we were breeding them it seemed no one especially minded when they fell to the ground.

Which was why It was so strange to me that I got Tessa. Usually they'd give me a bear, but one bread not simply to be a killing machine: a harmless blank slate, a cub, that I could mold into a lovable companion or feral murder factory. We were never for a lack of bears, or hawks, or boars, so I'm guessing Vyger giving me Tessa was just a roundabout way of playing favorites. But why lie and tell me we were out, then? Maybe he had the uncharacteristically brilliant foresight to know we wouldn't get along well at all at first. It's not as if he didn't know I didn't care for spiders, considering a spider was the first thing I shot when I was first given a gun.

Freaked the fel out of the person it was following, lemmie tell you.

Anyway, after Vyger ended his tale and we weren't able to sustain a conversation, as we all wanted to get our moping out of the way so it didn't consume us the night after the battle, we four left Vyger to his beer and more or less went our seperate ways. Poppi went directly to our barracks, while Melissa said she wanted to commune with nature, and turned into a bear to shamble away. Flo vanished into the night like the final embers of a dead fire was caught in the rain, leaving me alone in the cold night.

It was cold. Bitterly cold. It was winer, high in the mountains, at night, as the wind started picking up. Even my naturally resilient dwarven skin chipped away in the elements, but I was still resentful at Poppi for earlier, so I retreated to the stables, where Tessa had been locked up after our exchange of pain.

The stables was a building not designed for much outside keeping the animals confined and making it easy for the stablehands to feed them. There was only enough wall to protect them from three directions, so if they were unlucky they'd be stuck without shelter from the wind should it choose to blow the wrong direction. The fences that separated the beasts and their owners was made of wood, but between each stable there was a obscure stone wall, so the animals couldn't look at each other or spook the horses.

Tessa was in here, and I was pulled to her space simply because it was the most familiar to me. She had gotten a stable at the very corner of the place, and she had about twice the amount of hey on the ground than the bears, horses, or rams got, but it was little comfort to her, I imagine, as she was used to the humidity and dull washed-out heat of her jungle home. In fact, before she noticed me, I caught her violently shivering... although when she heard my foot crinkle the hey under my weight she quickly turned around and stopped shaking. I supposed she still thought we were playing the superiority game.

"Relax, girl." I sighed with a small smile, leaning against the frozen stone. "We're off-duty."

She did relax, somewhat, lowering her abdomen so it wasn't poised to sting, and spitting a small gob of web to the side-presumably built-up when she had assumed an aggressive position. But she never stopped looking at me, and I couldn't help but look back at those sharp blue eyes.

"We're going into battle in four days." I quietly reported to her, my voice trembling (or perhaps my words, so comfortable in the heat of my lungs, were also just shivering in the cold) and monotone. "So we'd better be ready, you and me."

Tessa didn't tense or show any sign of understanding the implications of my words. If she understood that, in four days, our bond would be subjected to the ultimate test and it needed to survive, she hid her anticipation better than me. But how could she understand? The fear she felt couldn't be of death: animals understand violence, but they don't understand war, or its implications. War was the business of death-death was the currency and the product-and for an animal, death is just a result of failure, nothing more. I don't think Tessa understood our objective was death, so how could she understand war?

Poor, stupid creature. What I wouldn't give.

"She's cold." Flo's voice came from behind me, and I was too jaded to her method of appearing behind people to find this surprising. I didn't turn around but I could smell the felweed on her.

She stepped forward, a heavy blanket in her arms, and draped it over the insect without a care in the world to if it got into her face or eyes, and indeed, it had. But it's instinct to struggle against this binding blanket were dramatically overshadowed by the desire to stay close to warming objects, so it didn't mind the obstructed vision.

She stepped back. There were bags under Flo's eyes, unnatural blots of black that were in relaxed, ugly contrast to the usual poise in her face. Her arms were folded, and tucked between two fingers was a smoking roll of yellow paper.

"So." She stated, her voice as sober as it had ever been, "We're going to battle. I should cut some more holes into my armor."

I nodded, watching the lump under the blanket relax, sinking into the straw.

"Just don't take too much off."

"Don't worry."

She took another drag. She didn't invite me to share in the drug, but she didn't need to. I wouldn't of said no, I needed to relax too, but she probably needed it more.

"...maybe I'll just leave my ass hanging out." She'd ponder in my direction. "Riding would suck but the ass is the least vital spot on the body. Just nerves and meat."

Nerves and meat.

"You'd distract everyone else, too."

"...I guess. Plus, battle makes me gassy."

She'd laugh, but just as it left her throat it became a cough, an all that remained of her joke was a half-smile which faded as another gust of wind smashed into the building.

"No it doesn't."

"...no, it doesn't."

She took another breath of the only air she cared for, then sat down, knees held to her chest, and she'd stare absently at Tessa. The felweed barely hung between the crack in her lips.

"We're getting along better." I'd say, a full minute after she sat down.

"Good."

"She kept spitting goo into my face at first."

"Web?"

"Yeah."

Another long break into silence. The cold was agonizing by now, but yet, it was like a mothers lullaby, tempting us to sleep in the plush snow. After enough time had passed, I found the courage to ask.

"...what happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"And that's the problem, isn't it?"

She was quiet. The felweed dropped from her lips like the words she had neglected to say. It fizzed out in the puddle of snow beneath us.

"...hurt your arm." She finally spoke again, tilting her head in my direction for the first time since the conversation began.

"Yeah. Pops wouldn't heal it."

"He's a bastard."

"Sometimes."

The refrain of silence played it's melody over us for another minute, before she pushed herself up.

"I should go to bed."

"Yeah. We should."

"See you back at the barracks."

"...hey."

She looked down at me, and I glanced up at her. Neither of us had moved yet.

"Yeah?"

"...don't walk so fast. My legs are shorter."

Her face didn't react to my demand, nor did she say anything afterwords. But as we both turned around to go back to the base, she made sure to take smaller steps.

* * *

When we got back, we caught Poppi just as he was in the middle of putting away the paintings (he instantly corrected us when we called them his paintings-he resented being considered their owner, or worse, their creator), which he admired during nights he contemplated his own fragile existence. Melissa still wasn't back from wherever it was she had chosen to meditate, and if history had taught us anything, it's that we couldn't expect her until early that morning, when she'd ineffectually attempt to sneak in without waking any of us.

"Oh! You're back!" Poppi would squeak, sliding the last of the pictures into a wide folder, easily as large as he was. "Gosh, you two look blue in the face!"

"Y-yeah." I'd grin at him, both me and Flo allowing our feet to automatically carry us to the hearth. "But it's good. Keeps the blood flowing.

"Just be careful. I know you can take it, Marco, but Flo-"

"-I'm fine." She insisted. "A little cold never hurt anybody."

"A little cold, maybe, but there's a whole lot out there." He gravely shook his head, slipping the folder under his bed. "And that's claimed countless lives."

"Okay, Mom." I grinned, my hands hovering over the hissing coals, "Next time I'll bring my scarf."

Flo just smirked.

"Well if wearing an apron and letting you call me Mom is what it takes, don't think I won't!"

"Tell you what-four days from now, if you go into battle in an apron, I'll do everything you say without question for the rest of your life."

"I'm sure you would! All ten minutes of it!"

Another bunk-mate coughed, and we were suddenly painfully aware that this wasn't our private suite, and there were other people trying to sleep. We'd turn guilty and look at the person who coughed for a moment, suspended in the realization that our worlds did, in fact, extend beyond us five, before we nodded at each other in silent agreement that we might as well follow suit. We went to our beds and took to them, snugly wrapped in the linens that separated us from our stone mattresses.

I dreamt that night of the same milky forest I had the first night I had met Tessa. There was no growling in my ear, but the leaves were beginning to smell of smoke, and in the distance, there were the wails of buildings as they tried to scream the flames off their bodies...


	5. Book 1, Chapter 5: Jobs

_"How do you survive?"_

_"You tell me-clearly you've done a good job of it so far."_

* * *

In our camp, not counting the general (she'd long since elevated herself to the point where her hunting was entirely recreational and perhaps a little cosmetic), there were a grand total of 6 hunters, including myself. Thee specialized in the actual art of using a gun. They were snipers, gunners, bowmen... men and women who used animals to complement their bullets and arrow, rather than the other way around, as was my case. They knew many of the same tricks I'd learned, and mastered many of the same techniques, but the ones they chose to use, and how they chose to use them, was so different you may consider them a different class altogether. All I had to worry about was hitting my enemies in the general vicinity of their bodies and hope the bullet (And the animal I commanded) did the rest. They, on the other hand, were a part of the bullet. They'd thrust their souls into each explosion and each release of the string, and they'd propel forward with the bullet and hit exactly where they intended to hit-a arm, a sword, the head, the knee, the pelvis, the stomach, the heart-it was almost as if they had mastered ranged battle to the point where the empty space between them and their foes became a unnecessary middleman in the delivery of the bullet to the body.

One had the unique distinction of being a woman of nature. A survivalist, as she called herself. I had never met her, as she trained in the maw of nature itself-where a druid was a medium for nature, she was an active conqueror of it, and used the spoils of her war with mother nature, and the experience she had gained living in the most raw, untampered wilderness available in Azeroth, to kill her enemies. Venoms was her ale, and she had mastered staying one step ahead of her enemies with the use of traps, camouflage, and the tricky animals she used in combat, of which I'd only seen one-a wasp. I nearly shot it until I realized it was owned by our resident wild-eyed recluse. The only person who'd claimed to see her was Vyger, who said she was the kind of woman who would relish the chance to be dropped deep into enemy territory, because she relished being hunted... and turning the tides on her perusers when they least expected it. As he explained it, "F' battlefield's like a shower, n' she's a bar a' soap." which I get was supposed to mean she was slippery, but I couldn't help but think it was a poor comparison considering how dirtily she fought.

Me, and the other guy, were Beastmasters, and I think I've introduced us already. We were mocked by the Marksmen for being cowards, and I could only imagine the Surivalist would say we were being used by nature, rather than the other way around, considering how dependent we were on our animals.

Anyway, there were three bunkers in camp, each one housing 13 people for a grand total of 40 soldiers (The survivalist lived outside camp, remember?), and in my bunker (Bunker C, if you were curious) only housed one other hunter, one of the marksmen-and of the three hunting practices, they were easily the worst when it came to ears. Their eyes were as keen as a birds, sure, but the ones that used guns were half-deaf and the ones who used bows stopped paying attention to their ears long ago.

So my ears were sharper than his. I mean, I used a gun too, but I used it less, since killing was mostly my pet's job. Which meant I was the only one in the whole bunker who woke up when I heard Melissa loitering just outside the door, in the wee hours of the morning.

"Yeah, don't worry, they're all still asleep." I heard what had to have been Melissa say-her voice was like two bronze swords sweeping across one another, it was very distinct and textured.

"Alright. Thanks for tonight, Mel." the second voice was tricky to place-it could have been someone from the platoon, because there were plenty of voices I didn't recognize in the camp, but it also could have been someone new entirely, perhaps someone she ran across in the mountains. It was a man's voice, but it was rough, like a hedgehog was wedged into his throat-and his words bore the scars of passing over it. I'm guessing common wasn't his native tongue, whoever he was.

"Any time. Remember what I said-'If we both lick our paws, we share the same job'?"

They laughed-a sort of playful, carefree, easygoing laughter I'd never heard from her before.

"Right, right..."

"Well, they're asleep, but don't stick around! If they catch you here we'll both get in trouble!"

"Then why did you even bring me here?!" He'd prod, not sounding especially worried.

"Well if I couldn't scare you back in the valley I figure I might as well try my luck up here."

"You'll have to try harder next time, then."

"Oh, shut up!" Followed by the harmless thud of a lazy, open hand being thrown against a leather-clad shoulder.

"Alright, see you later?"

"Defiantly. Say hi to the wife for me!"

"I'll say more than that, I promise you."

"Go on, scat!"

She held her hand to her mouth to withhold a smile when she walked into the barracks, moving as silently as her legs could manage. Although that goal was hurt somewhat by the spring in her step giving her feet far too much personality to be contained or silenced.

I watched her, without lifting my body or my head, as she found her bed and slid into it as gracefully as she could. She seemed to melt under the blanket, preparing for the inevitable wake-up call from Vyger that would stir us all in the coming unknowable minutes.

* * *

Morning was a whirlwind. Vyger never woke us up at the same time every morning-sometimes he'd break down the door with his foot just as the crown of the sun first wafted into the darkness of the night. Sometimes he'd wait until even the moon had surrendered to the day, and we were the last ones awake. The body falls into a rhythm as it's subjected to ritual, and he made it his job to interrupt that rhythm as often as he was allowed. The reason why was as different and varied as the people who asked: For me, he said it was to keep us comfortable with unpredictability, but when Poppi asked apparently he said it was because a schedule bred compliance, and if a body grew too complacent it'd stop challenging itself.

Flo assumed it was just because he was a sadist.

Tonight, either by coincidence or an act of mercy, he allowed us to rest until the last star had been coated blue. Once it had vanished, though, he kicked open the door without pause and howled into the door.

"Get up! Get up! S' a brand new day, don' waste it dry-humpin' yer blankets!"

He patrolled the isle between the bunks and the wall, slapping feet and heads he saw pushed against the end of the beds. We'd long gotten over being groggy-we still woke up dazed and sluggish and with agonizing slowness, but we weren't resentful over it, which was a key component of grogginess. Despite Vyger's best efforts, there was, in fact, some degree of familiarity that could be acquired with randomness and unpredictability: We'd learn to 'expect the unexpected', as it were, and while Vyger's actual wake-up call varied from hour to hour, there was no escaping the fact that we were still uneasier to leave our beds, unhappy to slide our armor on, and unwilling to step out from the warm bunker into the sour cold outside.

...I suppose I use the word "we" a bit liberally. Some people enjoyed the mornings-no one I knew intimately, but there was a human fellow who slept above me-Hector, I think-who always jumped down from his bed with such vigor that I suspected he was just a very well-composed forsaken. He'd always smile and nod at me as we changed, although I thought it was a little weird he'd wait to do that until we were both half-naked, so the best response I could muster up, if I had felt especially rested, was just a curt nod.

...plus, if I said good morning back, he tended to start... talking.

* * *

_"It's true! Jessica and Amaric, they're an item! I saw them myself, you see, walking hand in hand into the deep, romantic night ~"_

_"Uh huh."_

_"Who knows what sort of things they were doing! Why, the howling that night probably wasn't wolves at all! Although it very well could have been. Do you know why wolves howl? I've asked a few druids and shamans's that question myself, and you know what they said?"_

_"Uh huh."_

_"They said wolves howl-and this is true-when they're trying to scare more powerful wolves away! It's why they go to cliff sides and arch their backs... it's to make themselves look bigger!"_

_"That's nice."_

_"Why, they'll even wait until there's a full moon, so the light can blind the other wolf. Did you know wolves don't see well in moonlight? It's why they live in forests, see, because the trees block the light."_

_"Uh huh."_

* * *

Anyway, that morning I was keeping an eye out for Melissa. The men and women slept on opposite sides of the bunker, with nothing but a curtain to drop between us when we needed to get out of our sleep-ware and into our day attired, so at first there wasn't much to see, unless I wanted to label myself as a pervert and be one of the guys who always dressed suspiciously close to one of the many holes in the curtain. Coincidentally, if you dressed _too _far away from the curtain, you were accused of being gay, so it turned the morning ritual into a dangerous balancing act with a unsavory new nickname waiting for us should we tumble. For example, one dwarf in our ranks was called "Gerald the Stiff" because of his unflinching bravery in battle and strong shield arm. When someone caught him staring a little too hard at the curtain one morning, the nickname didn't change, but it sure as fel was tarnished.

Some say the army attracts unfeeling jerks. I can't speak for other platoons, but it's been my experience it's just a way to cope, for us. It's easier to see a waking joke get it's brains blown out in the middle of a battle. Which is what happened to Gerald.

...man, I keep getting distracted. Sorry, it's just I don't like lingering on what happened next.

After we got dressed, the curtain was pulled down and we all got into our clicks. Me, Flo, Poppi and Melissa all gathered around our usual spot and exchanged our morning smiles, which was a little less sincere than a regular smile but much more livid regardless, as we weren't awake enough to regulate the amount of emotion we had on our faces.

"Mornin'." I'd yawn, stretching my limbs over my head.

"Good morning, Marco!" Poppi squeaked, as energetic as ever.

"Hmmmm." Flo hummed, her eyes still closed but her body upright enough for me to know she wasn't just singing in her sleep.

"Morning, all." Melissa would smile, the bags under her eyes so heavy they sagged against her upper lip, crushing her dimples.

"Does anybody know what we're doing today?" Poppi asked.

"I think today is another training day." Melissa turned to him, forgetting to turn her smile off. "Tomorrow we prepare to move out, the day after, we go to our base at Alteric Valley, and the day following..."

"We fight." Flo finished Melissa's trailing sentence for her.

"Righto! Well, no complaints here! I need to practice some of my stronger healing spells!"

"I got Tessa's trust, but I still got a ways to go..."

"Still need help with her...?" Melissa would offer, her smile finally vanishing, but the bags under her eyes growing more exaggerated.

"No, I'm good. Thanks, though."

"No reason to linger here, then." Flow would open her eyes slightly, pushing herself off the wall. "If we don't get outside for inspections soon, Vyger will give us fel later."

This was true. I gave Melissa a second glance-a glance she noticed and fidgeted slightly under-and we went outside with the rest of our company.

* * *

Inspections were a pretty standard affair. Everyone just lined up and a few of our commanding officers made sure we didn't break anything overnight, and checked to make sure our armor was up to par. Vyger was a man who obsessed over punctuality, though, so if everyone was on time, it was a very leisurely, casual affair, but if anyone was late, he'd suddenly become as ridged as a cliffside carving and make us go through the inspection proper, which included posture, polish, and being examined for a million things that don't matter but will still get you a reprimand if you do them wrong.

Fortunately, today, that didn't happen, although he did comment on Melissa's sleep-depraved state.

"Jus' relax, soldier." He'd say in that impersonal commanding voice, "We ain't shippin' out for a few days. Ou' can not sleep then."

"Yes, sir." She'd respond equally as impersonally, back straightening and arms stiffening as she spoke. We were all friends, true, but we didn't let our affections leak into our professional lives. I think I've already stated a number of times why.

Inspection didn't take long, because no one rolled over their sword and snapped it in two overnight, so we were let go for breakfast. Flo opted out of eating, citing her unwillingness to gain weight before battle, and left me, Melissa, and Poppi to spit her rations between us in the dining hall.

The dinning hall was a unimpressive building that could be mistaken for any other in this camp were the tables replaced by beds, stools, or white linens. It was more "hall" than "dinning", as there was no kitchen or counter or anything like what bigger camps enjoy-rather, it was just a place arbitrarily designated to be where we receive and eat our daily rations. Our rations were better quality than those prepared for standard Ironforge soldiers because we were elites, but they were also lower quality so they could survive the trip up the mountains and stay good in the cold, so it all evened out. A few sticks of mammoth jerky, a hard loaf herb-baked bread, dried apple slices, sour goat milk, a slice of goat cheese, and, naturally, a flask's worth of Thunder Ale.

One person in our platoon, I think it's one of the druids, has a vegetable garden in his barracks. I tend to trade my cheese for one of his tomatoes, when I can.

Poppi and I sat on one end of our four-person table, and Melissa sat on the other, the vacant seat beside her reserved for however much Flo wanted to grace us with her presence, which, on this day like many others, was none. Still, her food was placed in front of her seat-an offering to her chair, which had become her spiritual effigy in her absence.

We tended to just pluck whatever we wanted from it, much like vultures or grave-robbers.

"So, Pops, how'd you sleep?" I asked.

"Not bad! Not bad at all! How about you?"

"I slept pretty well. Melissa?"

"O-oh! W-well... y-you know, I didn't get much sleep..." her eyes widened and she smiled, almost apologetically, at us.

"No kidding." I continued, not meeting her smile with one of my own, but rather a determined, oblivious deadpan stare that was both inoffensive and invasive all at once. "Did you try going for a walk to cool your nerves?"

The stare she gave me next, something akin to slowly waking from a conscious sleep, was almost indulgent. I'm not sure what I was calling her out on-having friends other than us?-but I was sure I was calling her out on SOMETHING, and it was strangely satisfying.

"...was that an observation or a suggestion?" Poppi asked, looking between us with his eyebrows raised.

"I dunno, which was it?" I asked her, leaning forward.

"Marco, what are you getting at?" She leaned back slightly, fumbling to grab at the bread in front of her, possibly hoping a full mouth would end the conversation.

"I heard you come in last night. Really late. You had someone with you..."

"Oh, light..." she'd lean forward, pushing her forehead into the palms of her hand. "Light-damned hunters..."

"Who was it? It sounded like a guy. A boyfriend?"

"No!" She growled, getting defensive but not aggressive, "He's just a friend!"

"A friend in the mountains? Was he in our platoon?"

"No! He's a fellow druid! He's not in the army! Am I not allowed to have friends outside the army or something?"

"Well if you're going to bring him to camp-"

"-He just wanted to drop me off!"

"He said you were helping with something?"

"H-how much did you hear?!"

"Most of it! You were always bad at sneaking around!"

"Look, what's your PROBLEM?" She'd stand up, throwing her palms onto the top of the table, glaring down at me as she shot out of her chair. "When did this become your business?"

"I don't know if you remember, but we're going to battle in a few days! I don't want you staying out so late, there could be spies, or scouts, and even if you don't run into any of those, you'll still loose sleep you'll need!"

"You're not my mother!" She huffed, eyes growing stormier to match the rumble in her voice, "Where do you get off telling me what I can do!?"

"Well clearly it's something you're ASHAMED of, otherwise you would have TOLD me!"

"No," she glowered, standing to get up, "If you had just asked 'Melissa, what were you doing out last night', I would have told you! Instead you... you... ACCUSE me!"

"I didn't accuse you of anything!"

"Yeah, sure, Marco." She turned, shoveling what remained of her food into her arms. "Whatever. See you later."

And she left, both me and the conversation, leaving me to puzzle together what happened. I looked to my left, but Poppi had slipped away, apparently unwilling to bear witness to our quarrel. I glowered at the empty seats beside me, stole a stick of Melissa's Mammoth jerky, and tore a piece off with my teeth. I just didn't get what the deal was. What her deal was.

I breathed out. First Tessa and now Melissa. I guessed it was something with women, and didn't allow it to bother me. Much.

If I had known then what I know now...

* * *

With nothing else to do after having finished breakfast alone, I went outside into the disjointed activity that had taken up the camp. It was never a quite place, fifty people in the same acre or so of land made sure of that, but on the eve of battle, people who may have been more lax about their self-regulated daily training were more active, so there was less places for people to train, and perhaps a little less conversation peppered through the air.

Perhaps one of the great disadvantages of having such a wide variety of skill-sets in one platoon is that it'd be impossible to make one training regimen that would satisfy all of our needs and force everyone to do it daily. A day's worth of valuable training for a hunter required practice in fields a paladin would probably find less than satisfying.

Still, it was a good day for training. The sun was out, there was barely a cloud in the sky to break the sharp-edged blue that blossomed from behind the mountains, and the sweet smell of sweat, booze, and gunpowder sat pungent in the motionless air. There were shouts from men and gun alike, the blunt sound of blades against wood, and the sweet snaps of raw fire as it swept across the ground, charring black once white earth.

I walked past all that, though, with nigh a sideways glance, and instead went to the stables, where Tessa was on her back, impatiently kicking at the blanket she had so affectionately bunkered into last night.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Don't hurt yourself."

The sound of my voice made her pause, then roll onto her feet and stared at me, the blanket still draped over her like a shawl. I smirked, pulled it off her, then opened the gate for her, allowing her to push past me in a sprint out into the snow and-

...oh.

* * *

"For the record," I explained to her as I returned to the scene with a shovel and a bag, "You're supposed to do that in the stable, then it'd be cleaned out by the stable-hand while we're out training."

She clicked her mandibles in a way unintelligible to me, although I suspected she'd said something like "You try pooping in your bed and I'll try pooping in mine", which was a point I'd have to concede. I'd have to work something out with the stable guy.

...wait...

"You poop in your bed

Tell me how it feels and then

I may poop in mine."

...huh.

* * *

"We're going to battle in a few days," I reported to Tessa as she walked beside me to the our training destination, "So if you didn't trust me before our little exercise yesterday, you'll need to trust me now."

I hoped she understood there was a difference between "trust" and "like", because of the two I was only able to offer her the former. But it was a step up from loathing, at least. She burped out a sort of passive growl as a form of acknowledgment, not breaking stride, and continued to glance at the surrounding camp. She didn't strike me as the overly curious type, but this was still a strange new place for her-I can't imagine she encountered many people in her native home, and if she did, they were probably killing Silithids for their shells or eyes or stomach acid or what have you. Still, she was calm, perhaps a little analytic as she peered at the swords and followed the arrows with her eyes.

We reached our destination fairly quickly, as I wasn't planning to do anything irregular with the training today-just trying to get our basic attack pattern and structure ingrained into the beasts memory. Hopefully we'll be able to do this in our sleep by the time we're done, and depending on when the battle actually takes place, we just might have to.

"Alright, remember what I said last time? About charging, then getting behind them so I have a clear shot?"

She didn't look at me, but she did hiss a little in acknowledgment.

"Well... do that."

She took her eyes off the surrounding mayhem of mock battle and reared back at the dummy opposite us, charging at it with murderous intent humming from every breath she took, and focus setting the back of her eyes on fire.

"That's the stuff!" I called to her as she valiantly bashed into the dummy, "But our target is that one over there!"

...for the record, she attacked the right one, but I was just messing with her.

* * *

The day didn't wear on, it was worn down.

It had, thus far, been soaked in frustrating newness-the excitement of trying something new, tethered to the growing irritability in your bowls when mastery of this new thing eluded you. I had done this routine many times before-in the middle of battle with war-starved bears, and in camp with a almost suspiciously adorable training partner, but never with a creature I could call my own, and the difference between the three was as wide and distinguished as the difference between a mountain and an ocean.

We spent a good few hours mastering the basics, long after the sun had passed the halfway point of it's daily marathon-by the time I lowered my gun and massaged my sore shoulders, I was positive that while we may not be able to do it in our sleep, our performance while awake would be sufficient to make up for that particular failing.

"Alright, break time." I motioned to her, sitting down on the spot and pulling out my pack. "We could both use some lunch, I imagine."

We'd both been left alone during our training. The people around me were too busy with the immediate task of training, and my friends were mostly preoccupied, or, in Melissa's case, still pissed at me for some reason.

I wasn't sure what Silithid's ate, so before I took my choice from what remained of both Flo's and my rations (I wasn't about to leave hers out to be sampled by the rats, or worse, my fellows-in-arms), I spread her choices out before her and let her pick and choose whatever was edible to her species. After giving the meat a nibble, and finding it too dry for her tastes, she grabbed hold of the cheese and found that more to her liking.

"Don't eat that too fast now." I told her, knowing she likely wouldn't heed my advice but sowing the seeds for one fel of a 'I told you so' moment, "You're not used to people food, you could get a tummy ache."

Throwing some jerky between two slices of bread to form something at least sandwich-like in spirit, we sat on the edge of the camp and watched nearly the whole camp match wits and steel against wooden horde replicas. It was strange. Sharing a meal and not having any conversation. I didn't do that very often. I drank with my friends, ate with my friends... and here I was, just sitting in the snow, in full armor, eating a sort-of sandwich next to a sort-of giant spider.

I had never never really treated my brain as anything worthy of conversing with before, but with the loudness of the camp wrapped around the silence in my skull, I somehow found the inspiration to have some painless small talk with it, in the same language distant uncles and anonymous aunts seem to speak at family reunions.

...it told me I was boring.

The fact that, for our first real communication, the matter it found most exigent, urgent and dire was that I wasn't making it's life very exciting or interesting was either very depressing or extremely gratifying. Either way, I didn't think I was boring. We argued the point for longer than I would like to admit before Tessa nudged me with her behind, probably wondering what was so fascinating about the back of my eyelids.

"Oh, sorry."

I put the food away, and after hoisting it behind my back again, I looked around, for either a familiar face, a thing that needed doing, something that would tell me what to do next, or just about anything that my eyes could latch onto.

"Well, we got the basics down well and good, but I guess we should work on more advanced maneuvers. Like the kill command."

The words 'kill command' themselves were enough to illicit a dry stare from her. "I suppose," I projected onto her, "You imagine I won't be trying to kill them without your expressed orders?"

"Here's how it works," I explained, not willing to assume whatever I imagined she said was genuinely what she was trying to communicate, "Normally, in battle, you pace yourself-we all do-to keep your stamina up. Well, when I make this gestire," and to illustrate, I made a motion like I was throwing a ball in her face, "you want to ignore that instinct and just tear your enemy a new one. Throw everything you got into that one bite, and make sure they feel it. Okay?"

The command was easy enough. The execution would be easy enough. Teaching her to be able to split her attention between fighting enemy and following my commands? That wasn't going to be very easy. And it wasn't something I could teach her with just inanimate objects alone. I needed to enlist help.

And I knew just the guy.

* * *

"I jus' don' know." Vyger leaned back against his chair, staring at the ceiling as he scraped the tip of a toothpick against his uneven teeth, "you're more of th' animal fella n' I am, m' sure I won' be much help!"

"I don't need you to do anything FANCY..." I urged, gesturing to the insect that was waiting by the door of the barracks. "Just attack her with the same battlefield ferocity that's earned you so much RESPECT around here. And not kill her."

Yes, I was brown-nosing. Yes, he knew it. And yes, it'd still work.

"Well, I AM th' best at these sorta things... I can't blame ya fer wantin' to come to me first... aw, heck with it, why the fel not?"

"Great!" I smiled, looking back at the six pairs of bewildered eyes lurking at the door. "We'll get started right away!"

"Aye. Ope' yer pet's hide s' as thick as it looks! M' hammers ave' been known to cleave through boulders!"

"...did I already say I don't want you killing her?"

* * *

This wasn't a spar, but it was close enough to one that it warranted the use of the sparring ring we had on camp. It wasn't an official ring by any means: just a circle we kept clear of snow and a few spare chairs some people had brought out surrounding it. There were a few patches of blood staining the charred, trampled earth inside the ring, but as long as I've been here no one's ever died in it, although light knows people have tried before.

Vyger was on one end, casually leaning against his own sheathed warhammers, while I was on the other end, kneeling before Tessa.

"Alright, it's pretty simple." I whispered to her, for some reason keen on keeping this secret from Vyger. "Vyger's gonna attack you, and you're going to do your best to avoid his attacks. Also, you need to be paying attention to me, and following my commands." I listed off three simple commands-wave a hand, she'd screech. Stomp my foot, she'd buck. Throw both hands into the air, she'd leap back. Some pretty wide motions and some pretty simple orders, so they wouldn't be hard for her first go.

"And one more thing," I prompted her as she got ready to charge Vyger. "Don't EVER attack him back... not for his sake, but for yours. If he gets mad, he stops showing restraint."

Boy was that a understatement. Tessa didn't seem pleased with the news, presumably because she was a giver, rather than a taker, but based off her begrudging mandible-click it seemed she was willing to admit she was out-classed in this case, which, I would later realize, was an underhanded insult on my own skills, seeing as I had to prove myself to her while she was willing to take Vyger's word for it.

Maybe it's for the best I didn't realize it at the time. I may have given her some less productive commands to follow. Something akin to "When I wave my hand, headbutt his hammer!"

"Alright, Vigs!" I called to him, Tessa turning around to face her opponent with head lowered, all reared up for combat. "She's all yours!"

"Bout' damn time!" He'd grin, thrusting his soul into the shine of his fully-exposed teeth,

"Don' let er' disappoint me now!"

I wasn't quite sure how to take that. He wouldn't let afford me time to decode it, either, as the next thing out of his mouth could only be described as a sonic boom somehow condensed in a dwarf's voice, followed by throwing one of his massive warhammers at Tessa as a precursor to his charge.

Tessa leapt to the side, which was all I could see before I turned tail and ran in the other direction, desperate to put some space between me and the spar. When I had gotten a few paces worth of space away from ground zero, I turned around and bore witness to their battle.

Their terribly, terribly one-sided battle.

"Stop! Stop! Vyger, stop!"

"What?" He'd stop, yanking one of his hammers out of the indent he had made in Tessa's natural armor, allowing her to sway, stagger, then collapse, eyes spinning like the wheels of a motorcycle. "Isn't this whatcha wanted?"

"N-not quite." I nervously laughed. "Go a bit easier on her, okay? She's not experienced enough to fight a man of your... er..."

"Brilliance?" he flatly suggested a word.

"...yeah, brilliance."

"Awright, awright. Oy, stop stargazin' and get up!" He'd prod Tessa with his foot, helping her shake off the impact. "We got a long day ahead of us!"

She got to her feet, and after a few breaths, clicked once. Possibly indicating she was ready to go again... I hope, anyhow, because that's how Vyger heard it.

* * *

There was something both glorious and disturbing about Vyger's presence in battle.

The one time I saw him in actual battle... well, let me rephrase that. I never actually saw him fight so much as I mapped out his battle from what remained of his advisories when he was done with them. He descended onto battlefields as a hurricane, where he gleefully provided the wind and the thunder while his foes volunteered the rain. It was glorious because it never ceased to astonish me that a man of his skill could be principled enough to be satisfied with being a commander instead of, say, a mountain king, or making his fortune as a mercenary.

It was disturbing because no one should ever be so adept at killing. Seeing him fight legitimized the very idea of a killer-for-hire: that people do exist who have just the right skill-set to make them disqualified for any other kind of work. What terrified me the most was that I was actually able to follow Vyger with my eyes, and while his weapons were a blur, I knew full well I was only able to do so because he was holding back. But what a sight he was: teeth born, clenched into a covetous smile so tightly that his jaw was white as well. His eyes were glowing with life normally reserved for newborns. His leathery skin seemed to crack from the proliferating muscles that had been so surgically fused with his bones from constant training and testing.

Regardless, he was maybe a little too perfect for this kind of test. He demanded far too much attention from Tessa-between his shouts, his unending onslaught of blows, and the occasional earthquake he caused when he'd slam his hammers into the ground, she could only afford me a few glances, usually when I was asking her to do something she would have done anyway, like squeak or try to put distance between her and her attacker.

After five minutes, she collapsed. Not only from the beating she undoubtably endured, but also from exhaustion. I ran over to her, while Vyger, who appeared to only have worked up the tiniest of sweats, leaned back on one of his hammers.

"Poor girl. Jus' too much f' er'. I knew ya shoulda asked someone else first."

I began to patch her up, although while my focus was on her, I was still able to talk.

"No, this is better." I affirmed to both her, him, and myself. "Compared to you most hordies will seem like cake."

And that was true, I wasn't just saying that because a small part of me enjoyed seeing her fall over.

"F' that's ow' it worked, trainin' would just consist of beatin' up new recruits until they get numb ta pain." He smirked, perhaps not out of amusement, but rather, something he just did automatically whenever beatings came up in conversation.

"Well it's not like this is ALL I plan to do with her..."

"Then do ya need me anymore?"

"I guess we're done for now..."

"N' that case, I'll see ya at th' bar tonight."

"Right. Don't get too drunk without me."

"Ha!" He roared as he walked off, "As if there's sucha thing as _too_ drunk!"

* * *

Melissa was sitting on the opposite end of the bar from me this time.

"S' a fel of a beast ou' got on ya, Marco." Vyger mockingly grinned as he wiped some froth off his beard, "Thin's too timid to even try to hit me once durin' out little spar!"

"No, I told her not to." I responded, nursing my drink, "If she had hit you, you'd of gotten angry and stopped holding back."

"Pfff, oh ye of little faith! Ya see me enterin' a rampage every time a bug bites me?"

* * *

_"Vyger, what the fel happened here?!"_

_"...m' bed had bedbugs, sir."_

_"So you destroyed the mess hall?!"_

_"...didn't want em' to spread."_

* * *

"That doesn't count." He glowered, taking a suspiciously long drink even by his standards. "Damn things caught me off guard."

"Now, wait just a minute, here." Poppi interjected, "Tessa and Vyger sparred today?"

"Not for long." Flo shrugged, crossing her exposed legs absently. "Vyger kicked her butt."

"Wait, you were there?" I turned to her.

"I was practicing nearby."

Flo certainly stuck out in our group today, for more reasons than just her crazy height. The men were dressed as bulkily as ever, and Melissa was always conservative with her armor choice, but Melissa was dressed so scantly that you'd suspect she'd just as soon be a pole dancer.

"Well, whatever. I told her not to attack. Last thing I need is a new partner."

"I thought you wanted a new companion, Marco! You didn't like Tessa at all just two days ago!"

"Well, sure, but that was before I knew we were going to battle in a few days. Plus I don't think there was ever a time I wished death on her."

There might of been, but I tend not to linger on murderous desires.

"If you didn't want her dead, I can't think of any other reason you'd ask Vyger's help in training her." Flo sipped her drink, then eyed my mug.

"Well, I don't really have time to take my time with this..."

Poppi and Vyger would nod, before the gnome turned to look at Melissa, who was silently brooding next to him.

"Melissa, what are you so grumpy about?"

I had assumed that she was still upset at me for this morning, but it was vain of me to think she cared that much about my opinion of her. Either way, Poppi's sudden inquiry caught her off guard, and her back spiked up straight.

"Ah, nothing! N-nothing. I'm just tired. Long day. Aren't you all tired? We're supposed to be training."

"Nope. A few drinks and I'm back in peek condition!" Poppi bragged, lifting his mug with an air of superiority. "Just a few drinks to refill my mana pool!"

"I wasn' practicin', less ya coun' that lil' exercise with Tessa." Vyger followed Poppi's boast with a similar one. "Member of command, so I was mostly plannin' things with the general. M' brain's never tuckered me out."

It was his least worked muscle.

"If I'm exerting myself too hard, I'm not doing my job right." Flo stated, a mildness in her voice that hinted at a greater weariness than she was letting on... perhaps whatever energy she had was sapped by the snipping cold, rather than her training.

"I'm a little tired..." I answered her question, even though I couldn't say if I was invited to answer it or not, "...but I imagine Tessa's the one who really needs the sleep."

"You're all freaks." she slammed her forehead into the bar and heaved. "Freaks."

"No, we just slept last night."

And I immediately regretted saying that. Everyone craned their necks out to stare at me, the row of eyes uniformly judgmental.

"Light, just let it GO, Marco!"

"It's not really our business how Melissa spends her nights!"

"Ey, now', ou' got a problem with er' sleepin' habits, lad?"

"What happened last night?"

"What? What?!" I defended myself, leaning away from their collective menace, "I wasn't ACCUSING her-"

"-it sort of came out sounding like you were." Poppi informed me while Melissa just leaned back and rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, you all read too much into these things."

"Look, we're not 'ere to say who did what or what have ya. We're jus' 'ere to drink. S' friends! Celebrate beatin' another day!"

"Yeah. That." Melissa moaned, polishing her glass off, which caused the others, minus myself, to either finish their own drinks or take a large enough swallow that it allowed them to ask for a refill. The bartender solemnly obliged, and we used the moment's break to brush aside the ashes from the old conversation so they wouldn't stain the kindling for the new.

"Ugh. M' sick ta death f' Thunder Ale. M' ready for a man's drink."

"You know what I miss," I followed, still just letting the tips of my beard soak in my mug, "I miss Bourbon."

"What? That cheep stuff? My ass." Melissa smiled at the wall behind the bartender, and her eyes were working with her memory to allow her see something she must of been enamored with. "I'll tell you..." her story was broken by a brief yawn she quickly suppressed, "the best drink I ever had was something called Cuergo's Gold with Worm. I think. I found it in a treasure chest. I had to give it a taste, and damn, time was kind to it. If I die, I expect one of you to find me another flask of it so you can pour it on my grave."

"Moonglow." Was all Flo said, although the tip of her tongue rested on the edge of her lip long after she was finished speaking, hoping, perhaps, that the word itself would ferment in the air and allow her a taste.

"You're all useless drunks!" Poppi accused in what sounded like a playful manner, putting his gauntlet on the table and staring at all of us. "After I'm out of here I won't touch this stuff again!"

"Aww, whas' wrong, afraid your wee body'll slip between some gears f' ou' get too tipsy?" Vyger laughed, wrapping his arm around Poppi and poked the big-headed gnome in the forehead, grinning mischievously. The tiny priest tried to push Vyger off, and Melissa and I started laughing with him. Flo smiled. Just smiled.

"Shouldn't you be making fun of Marco? He's the one who said he liked whisky!"

"Ooh- ou're right! No self-respectin' Dwarf drinks anythin' but the finest ales n' beers!"

He leaned on me and started laughing in my face, listing off all the brews he could remember and daring me to tell explain to him how Burbon was better than any of them.

My drink was untouched for the rest of the evening.

* * *

It was late when we four had to say goodnight to Vyger and return to the Barracks. Melissa was too tired to even pretend she had other plans for the night, and groggily shambled to the bunk to make up for lost time. Flo was a bit more formal about it, saying goodnight properly to both me and Poppi, before rushing after Melissa, likely to escape to the hearth.

"We should get some rest too, you know!" Poppi squeaked as we stood just outside the door to the bunker-foolishly assuming that we wouldn't be disturbing anyone's rest by talking outside the door, even though I had learned this morning that wasn't the case at all. "Tomorrow we're packing up. Gonna be a busy day!"

"Yeah..." I paused, carrying my breath past the word as if I had more to say, although I didn't. Poppi waited, to be sure I wasn't going to say anything more, before looking at his feet.

"Say... Macro..."

"Yeah?"

Poppi shifted his feet, brushing some snow off the steps to the barracks.

"Something Melissa said tonight... could you make me a promise?"

I was caught off guard. Poppi's tone was usually so cheerful and giddy, even when that attitude stood starkest against the tone of his surroundings. Even when he was refusing to heal me his rage was tampered with that almost song-like squeakiness. It was downright unnatural to see him so... morose.

"What?"

"If I die... bury me with those paintings, alright?"

I stared at him for a few moments, before awkwardly laughing.

"Don't be stupid, Pops-of the five of us, you're the most likely to survive."

"Quite the contrary!" He looked up at me with a great deal of intensity, wielding the sharp blade of knowledge with every intent to slay my ignorance. "I'm the first person the Horde targets during attacks! The healer is statistically the first person to die in a spar!"

"...er... right, but, considering your history..."

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. His face just froze for a moment or two before it sagged-the face of a man defeated, although I wasn't sure what I had beaten him in. He sighed, and went back to looking at his feet. He kicked a bit of snow off his shoes and onto mine.

"...please?"

"...relax." I smiled, knowing that he wouldn't see it unless he had mirrors on his shoes. "I give you my word. You'll be buried with your paintings."

"They're not mine!" He looked back up again, glaring.

"Right, right, THE paintings. Are you ever going to tell me what the deal is with those things?"

"Maybe someday. Not tonight." He turned to walk into the barracks

"...how about letting me see what the damn pictures ARE?"

"Don't push your luck, mister, or they WILL be burying you first!"

He laughed. I laughed. Then we both went to bed.


	6. Book 1, Chapter 6: People

_"How do you survive?"_

_"You know the right people at the right time."_

* * *

The morning greeted us with a tumble.

"Getcher pillows inta' these bags." Vyger ordered our 70% asleep bodies as he threw heavy, half-filled bags into our stomachs. "Then ou'll need two days worth of rations. Anythin' else you wanna bring, you'll either 'ave to make room for em' or bring yer own bags, ya hear?"

What a great way to start the day. Couldn't say it didn't set the theme, though.

* * *

We all had our duties that day, duties that were considered much higher priority than anyone's individual training. Breakfast was a race-failure to check every item off our to do list for the day would result in fierce reprimands, demotions, pay cuts, and worse of all, we'd be made to fight anyway. After we stuffed what we could down our throats and into our bags, we were given our tasks and set upon the camp.

Perhaps to nobodies surprise, as a beastmaster, I was expected to get the animals ready for transport. That included gathering all the hey up in transportable bales, measuring out the animal's daily meals and putting them in individual bags, cleaning the poop out so mountain predators like bears or cougars don't visit while we're gone, fixing horseshoes, brushing the animals, getting the saddles ready, warming their limbs up so they don't strain themselves on the road, feeding them, weather-proofing the ones who needed it, cleaning the walls of the stables themselves, shoveling the snow off the road, getting bindings ready...

Lots to do.

Naturally, though, the tasks were divided between me, the stable master, and the other beastmaster in camp, who I didn't know very well, although I'm pretty sure his name was Tristrem. When I got there, I found the two were already started: Tristrem-who I just remembered was a human-was already hard at work scraping the fel out of the Gryphon's roost, while the stable master was filling small bags with feed: Bite-sized snacks for the animals, since most of the mounts-horses, rams, a few Elekk-would be pulling carts and wagons during the trek, so they would need the extra energy.

He wouldn't actually be coming with us. The Stormpike's had their own stable master and she insisted she could handle our beasts.

Alright, so I guess I'd be gathering up the hay. There wasn't much to the job itself. I just had to bend over, pick the hay up, and when I got a large enough clump, all I had to do was bind it together with twine, then throw it in a pile, repeat. Good menial work. But while the task itself was almost insultingly simple, the proximity to Tessa made working much less so.

The moment she saw me, she dug herself out of her wool-blanket cave and latched onto the gate to her stable, shaking it violently while hissing like a bag of snakes. I looked up from the ground and stared at her for a few moments, before walking over, scooping up hay as I went.

She stared at me pleadingly once I got close enough to undo the hatch to her gate, the brand-new bucket in the corner of her stable untouched.

"We gave you a bucket. That's better than some of the people here get."

Hey, the line to the outhouses could be long some nights. Still, the answer didn't satisfy her, and she started to rattle the door again, her once pleading, somewhat placid and agreeable stare turning violent and threatening. "It might not be web I spit into your face this time!"

She started to tremble, and with a sigh, I lazily turned to the stable master.

"Hey, mind if I let Tessa out for a bit?"

"So long as you clean up."

"Alright."

So I undid the hatch and the door gave way to what amounted to a one-bug stampede as she dove out of her confined quarters and relieved herself right very well in front of all of us: shameless, although I supposed animals were't big on dignity in the first place. I didn't really watch, because the moment she let out her first victorious howl I had already turned my back to retrieve the shovel. At least she had the good decency not to do her business in the hay.

It wasn't until I was in the process of getting her business into a bag that I realized she wasn't actually going back into her kennel.

"You've done your business, get back in there. I'm busy."

Now, I'm not a dumb person, but sometimes I am a little thoughtless. Quick to forget history. That's the only way I can justify my being surprised when I came back from disposing the bag and finding Tessa, in defiance to my orders, strolling about outside, stretching her legs out. I sighed, knowing already this would be another headache I really didn't need to deal with, and I grabbed her leg.

"In you go."

My attempt to drag her into her kennel wasn't exactly welcomed by the spider-creature, and in defiance she kicked my hand off her body, with an extra kick into my stomach thrown in for good measure. I think it was the first time I'd appreciated just how clever Tessa could be, because she kicked me JUST hard enough that I'd feel it, and stagger back a foot, but not so hard that I'd feel justified in attacking her back. I think she was exploiting my fear of abusing my power.

I shook the blow off easily enough, and circled around her to stare her in the eye. My intent was to stare her down-project my authority over her through my eyes rather than befalling temptation and using my hands-but as I got on one knee to level our stares, something happened. Something that might be impossible to describe, but something that deserves the effort.

When I first looked her in the eye, I was lost within the fortitude she projected-I had equated it to ice earlier-but this time there was something more. There was just the faintest hint of something, something that I could barely see between the cracks of that ice, something I was drawn too. I didn't know what this phantasmal essence was, but it grazed over my vision like sand slipping down a vial-I could feel it, like, I could just brush it out of my eyes and hold it between my fingers, but all the same, I knew I couldn't.

...it was something far too abstract to be words, but much too definite to be anything but a message.

I don't know how long I stood there translating it, but it was only when the stable master nudged into me that I understood it. I stumbled out of my trance, and stood, shaking my head.

"You know, fine. Whatever. Just don't get in anyone's way."

I think the closest word for it is "expectation". And I know that didn't make as much sense as say, "Rebellion" or "Strength" would have been, but trying to give form to the formless is an inexact art and prone to compromise. Either way, she got exactly what she wanted out of it.

She clicked pleasingly and watched as I eased back into my appointed chores, leaning over to pick up the hay. At first it didn't bother me much, but as I continued to work and glance at her out of the corner of my eye, I couldn't help but notice that not only was she STILL watching me, she also hadn't moved.

The minutes passed at an agonizing rate, and the edge of her stare seemed to tick at the back of my skull. Like she was scratching some itch I didn't have-it was annoying, is the simple way of saying it. Not only had she been staring at me for no discernible reason, but she STILL wasn't moving-the whole damn reason she wanted to stay out of the kennel was so she could move around, and now that I'd given in to her orders she wasn't going to take advantage of it?

"If you were just going to STAND there, you could have stayed in your kennel." I finally said after clearing the last of the hay from the east side of the stables.

She cheerfully snorted, then finally moved, strutting (yes, she was STRUTTING) past me over the newly-exposed grayed dirt and stopping just shy of the hay-coated half of the stables. She looked back at me for a moment to make sure I was watching, then she reared back impressively and threw a massive net of webbing over the hay, and after watching the white sticky threads settle upon the cluster of hay, she yanked back, pulling the threads back and taking a lot of the straw with it-and within the span of a few seconds, she had cleared most of the hay out of the remainder of stables. It was even in one big, pseudo-orderly pile soaked with spider goop.

She turned back around, lifted her chin high, then strut past me once more. Probably bragging about how much more efficient her method was. She settled back into her old spot. I guess it made sense she would pride herself on her ability to perform manual labor, she was a worker Silithid before she was captured by the general after all, but actually...

"Not bad. Except we can't actually use the straw anymore."

She stiffened, then clicked in protest.

"Because it's tangled up with acid spider goo, that's why! It'll smell up to high heaven and destroy the hay in the the process!"

* * *

We had to throw the hay into a bonfire. It caused the fire to flare up pleasingly but it was still a waste, which would be docked from my pay, since she was my beast and it was my job to control her. The Stable master chewed me out for it, but he also understood what a handful Tessa could be, so he was willing to forgo any further punishment-anything more official that would tarnish my otherwise only-slightly-spotty record.

For better or ill, though, the hay was taken care of, and I had to get back to work. The next thing on my to-do list was to brush the animals. However, perhaps in a flash of wisdom, the Stable master decided I'd be better-suited to shoveling snow, since I had to keep an eye on Tessa and he sincerely doubted she'd get along any better with the other animals than she did with the hay.

So I grabbed the shovel, again, and got to work. The ground within the camp itself didn't need to be shoveled-it was so padded down by the constant traffic of the soldiers that it was just as solid as the ground-but the path outside camp was so infrequently traveled that outside a makeshift trench plowed by the occasional messenger , there wasn't much in the way a road. Normally, that was a minor annoyance at worst-our mounts were sure-footed and we ourselves were used to pushing through feet of snow-but when making this kind of mass exodus, we had to clear a path so the carts could move with some degree of ease.

I wasn't the only one here-this was a fairly big task, as there was about half a miles worth of rough terrain before the land leveled out and the road became paved. There were at least four other people here, working the roads, none of whom I recognized off the top of my head. They'd carved out maybe 40 yards worth of snow by the time I had gotten there, and when they saw me walk up with a shove over my shoulder, they gave me a nod before getting back to work. I followed their lead.

Tessa was still with me, though. And her presence was enough to prompt conversation.

"What's that thing?" One of the guys asked-a friendly looking man in an outfit designed to combat the weather, pale pink skin, and ears like viper teeth.

"Her?" I looked back and nodded at Tessa, who was watching us again. "That's Tessa. A Silithid."

"Smaller than the Silithid's I remember." Another woman chimed in, not actually looking at the animal in question. "I had to combat an entire colony of them in the barren land of Tanaris. They were numerous, but fragile."

"Yeah, well, we're working on that."

"Why's she staring at us, anyway?" The guy asked, stopping for a moment to stare back to meet her gaze.

"I dunno. Guess it's because she was a worker. I think she's trying to learn how to do our jobs so she can upshow us."

"Fel, she wants it, she can have it." He laughed.

"I'm unsure of how adequately as beast such as that could perform these duties."

"I think you need to work on your sense of humor, darling." He smirked at the Draenei woman, and she stared back obliviously-or perhaps with some accumulated knowledge of her many, many years that stopped her from finding humor in his wry comments. Either way, it ended the conversation pretty quickly, and we went back to work without so much as a sideways glance at one another.

Coincidentally, the worgen guy, our fourth worker, could have been saying something, but he was in such a heavy mask I wasn't even sure how he was breathing in there. Some people's sense of style was weird.

* * *

"And... Kill Strike! Kill Strike!"

I made an uppercut motion with my shouting, and obediently Tessa disregarded her own common sense and threw herself at the dummy with reckless abandon, smashing into it and starting to tear it into a pulp... for over five seconds.

"No! No, just ONE attack! One! If it takes this long to bring them down, disengage!"

It was lunch-break. While most of the soldiers had opted to spend it actually eating lunch, I figured I could use the free time to work a little bit more with Tessa. It wouldn't amount to much, the break was only 30 minutes, but I just felt more comfortable working the dummies than I ever would just sitting down and eating lunch, even if I was the only one here.

She pulled back and clicked her mandibles together, a gesture which had no meaning to me, but the fact that she was at least trying to create a dialogue was appreciated.

"Alright, try again-I know it's easy to lose yourself in the kill strike but it does more harm than good. Now... Kill Strike! Go go go!"

I did the gesture a few times, which probably just looked like random flailing to anyone who might of happened to see it. At the time, I didn't think anyone was watching. Except someone was.

"Hey. You should eat something."

I turned around to confront the owner of that voice, knowing full well who it was. Flo awaited my eyes, sitting in the snow, her exposed body caressed by the frozen water shards and freezing the surface of her skin in kind. She had a piece of bread in her hand, which was extended towards me.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked, not grabbing the bread, nor turning my eyes away from hers to watch Tessa fail helplessly at controlling herself as she tore the dummy more than a few new ones.

"What'll happen, my skin will turn purple?" She half smiled, shaking the piece of bread in her hand. "Take it."

"Thanks." I smiled back, extending my hand, allowing her to drop it into my palm. I only got one bite in before Tessa whined, causing me to turn back around and see the damage caused by my inattentiveness.

"...aw, fel, maybe you should just fight like that from now on."

The scribes would be happy they had some more wood pulp to turn into paper, but still.

"Hey."

I turned back around, causing Tessa to click some more for attention, or at least for new orders.

"Yeah?"

"...you're terrified, aren't you?"

I don't remember what I first thought when she said that, but I remember how it felt-it felt like getting shot.

"...N-no. No! Don't be stupid, I-"

"Last night. I never outdrink you."

"That don-"

"Getting upset at Melissa."

"That was just a-"

"-Marco. You can admit it."

It was like getting shot, and feeling all the blood drain out of your body. It was what was keeping you alive, but had a terrible weight to it. Pressure inside you, something your quivering veins could barely contain, something just on the peek of an eruption. Getting shot. It was painful. But it was also relieving. All that pressure... all that weight... just goes away.

"...and so what if I am?"

"We're all scared."

"No, don't equate your fear with MY fear, okay?!" I nearly howled out, before catching myself. It was funny, really, how a few choice words from a certain someone could suddenly make you feel as venerable as a child. "You know what this is LIKE?! At first-at first, it was okay, because... I mean..."

I took a deep breath. She didn't stop staring at me, nor did she appear impatient or pressing. She just waited.

"I got Tessa THREE days ago. I had ONE day with her before I found out that I'm going to fight in the biggest battle of my entire life, and I only had three days-not even three days, maybe a day and a half-to make a bond with her that takes MONTHS!"

She invited me to continue with her silence.

"We're the 'elite of the elite'! The best of Ironforge and the Alliance! And here I am, supposed to be at my best, and suddenly I find myself with THIS handicap?! It's like if someone told you at the last minute 'Those knives are no good-learn to fight with this staff instead' or told, I dunno, Poppi that he really needed to learn some freaking ICE magic!"

"How am I supposed to fight the Horde when I have an animal who can BARELY perform something as simple as a kill command! I've spent YEARS training myself-mastering every trick a hunter can hope to know-and I'm gonna be ruined, and KILLED, because they don't wanna give me a bear?! What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?!"

"But I can't be scared. What good would being scared do me? They won't excuse me from the battle. Vyger's so convinced I'm a genus beastmaster and that I can train the thing in three days that he won't get me one of those placeholder bears. Showing I'm scared would just worry Poppi and Melissa and the last thing I want is to weigh them down... so why? Why waste anyone's time? Just let me be scared, okay? Let me be scared in my own, quiet way!"

Truth be told, until then, not even I knew how scared I was. We're soldiers. We weren't allowed our thousand-yard stare, because death was inches away. I had bottled up my fear inside me-inside my blood-and tried to let it erode in the stream. But Flo knew me too well. Knew me before we were soldiers proper. She knew my fear-she saw it in my fevered eyes when I had my gun pointed at her.

And as a rogue, she knew full-well just how terrible the things we couldn't see could be to us.

She let me breathe for a few minutes. She let a few beads of sweat roll off my chin, onto my beard, into the snow, where it turned into a tiny frozen bead, indistinguishable from those that surrounded it.

Then she spoke.

"I'll save you."

She didn't say "I'll protect you". She didn't say "you won't slow me down". She said "I'll save you". It was enough to make a man tear up. Just a bit.

"T-thanks..."

Her half-smile returned, and I felt such a swell of emotion within me I actually reached out and hugged her-immediately causing her to stiffen up and her smile to vanish.

"D-don't touch me. Don't... don't touch me."

My eyes widened as I realized what I had done, and I let go immediately, stepping back.

"R-right... sorry."

"Just don't do it again, please."

"Sorry."

We both quietly stared at one another for another few seconds, before she stood up, without a word, and walked away-leaving whatever anger she may have felt towards me in her imprint in the snow.

I sighed, watched her go off, then turned back around-just in time to get a face full of webbing.

I guess Tessa was the kind that took indignation standing up.

* * *

We didn't get much more practice in after Flo left, but arguably her interruption was better for me. As I went back to shoveling (We were about 3/4th's done) under Tessa's watchful eye, I was left to muse over my insecurities. My doubts. My fears. Shoveling was an easy task, after all, and without conversation to occupy my mind it needed something else to busy itself with, unless I wanted to really think about the path we were digging out.

Yes, I was afraid. Owning up to it may serve as a distraction in the short term, but getting it out there also cleared my mind somewhat. It felt less clustered. And I was given some room to look at things a little more carefully-specifically, how to strategically proceed. I couldn't hope to make the proper bond with Tessa in another day. Even if we weren't going to be busy that day with briefings, traveling, and preparing Dun Baldar for the upcoming battle, and I had 24 hours with Tessa alone, we might be able to perfect the Kill Command and get started on what I've dubbed "Fervor" before we were let loose on the Horde.

It might be for the better, anyway. Untrained as she is, Tessa's not likely to last too long. Maybe it's better I'm not bound to her.

...so I'll have to tackle this a different way. Tessa's got a power to her-something deep and internal, something I saw stir earlier today, within the pools of her many eyes. Plus, she was clearly smarter than one would expect her to be... maybe instead of training her... I needed to let her train me.

I stopped shoveling and looked back at her. She met my eyes as soon as she saw me turn, and cracked her mandibles as acknowledgment... yes, there it was. That power. It leaked out of her.

I guess I didn't have much choi-

"Hey, back to work, buddy. We're almost done!"

"...gah, sorry, sorry."

* * *

Tessa never volunteered her help in shoveling. I suppose she didn't see an adequate opportunity to use her webbing to ruin it for everyone. But even without her help, as the last bit of snow was thrown to the side and we took our first steps onto the well-paved main road, we four celebrated with some brief cheers and a few high-fives before we started the half-mile walk back to the base.

The sun was low, but not nearly low enough to excuse us from the other jobs that needed doing.

"So, that insect thing never did help out." The elf commented.

"Guess she figured she couldn't use a shovel properly." I snorted, not finding my joke nearly as funny as I let on.

"I should think she would have been aware of that the moment she realized she didn't have opposable thumbs."

"One of these days I'll get you accustomed to Azeroth humor." He'd peck her on the forehead, navigating around her horns.

"Azeroth humor seems to intentionally defy any prospect of logic and reason!"

"That's what makes it FUNNY!"

"So how do you distinguish between genuinely faulty reasoning and humor?"

"Sometimes you can't!"

"So how am I supposed to know when you're joking?!"

I guess someone was still new to the Alliance. As I listened to the two of them talk about humor, and her failure to understand it, I got to wondering-what made her so willing to die for us? Was she here because she believed in everything the Alliance stands for? Was she here because she was fooled? Duped? Told it was her duty not as a member of the Alliance, but as a Draenei? Or was it just to protect her husband?

Did her motives matter, when ultimately she was still lending her body to a war that wasn't hers?

...it was strange. What people would willingly kill for. What people would happily fight for. What people would unknowingly die for.

Looking at Tessa, I could only guess at what which of those three would actually apply to her.

* * *

The sky was a deep, bruised purple when we got back to the camp, and the torches were out to compensate, at least a bit, for the lack of sunlight. When I had made it back to the Stable master he informed me that the only thing left to do as far as the animals were concerned was to bridle them up. Something loose-fitting so they could sleep comfortably but easy to tighten so we don't lose time tomorrow.

It seemed simple enough, and after all that manual labor something at least a little bit more intricate was welcomed.

So I was handed some of the reigns and set on the task. In the stable itself, there was about 15 or so horses and rams, although around the camp there were 20 more that needed a similar treatment. It took a minute or two to put these things on once I got into a rhythm, so while I might eat a little late I wouldn't be up till midnight if nothing went wrong.

That said, since Tessa would be with me and the sound of voices tended to calm the mounts down, it seemed like a good time to talk to Tessa... er, to talk AT Tessa, about my new scheme.

"I've been thinking," I started, getting her attention from some people who were walking by, carrying carpenter tools, "About what we need to do to function best, as a team, before the battle."

I had just started putting the harnesses on the first horse as I spoke. These were war-mounts, and they weren't easy spooked, so I didn't expect any of them to attack me or run off or anything, but they still stiffened up when anyone besides their owner got near. My voice, while a bit rough around the edges, still caused them to relax, just a bit. It reminded them of the shouts they heard every morning. Rather like a roosters crow for a country man, except more so because they were rarely woken up by it.

"Well, here's what I came up with: Seems that there's going to be a bit of a problem, because while you're tough and all, you've never been trained before. So you don't know how to learn-heck, your species is part of a hive mind, you've probably never even had a thought of your own until recently."

If I had to guess, I'd think she just rolled her eyes at that. I moved to the next horse, and my hands started to move as if I were re-tying the first one. Moving with the efficiency of an assembly line, and all the feeling, as well.

"So, to my thought-a bit of a compromise. Being a good beast-master means embracing the duality of the profession. For as much as I need to teach you, you need to teach me. And I think you have a certain quality about you that'll make that..."

I don't want to inflate her ego with flattery, so...

"...possible. So I was thinking, later tonight, you could do your best to teach me how to work better with you. Okay?"

She didn't do anything at first. Nothing to suggest, anyway, she was especially blown away by the proposal, or in disbelief that I was basically reversing my previous position of trying to be top dog. But as I passed horse after goat after cat after horse, working through the anticlimax, I realized she was starting to watch... closer to me. Every time I moved, she took the chance to slide a bit closer and closer until she was just a foot or two away from me, her breath indistinguishable from the intermittent night-time wind.

When I turned to look at her-a little aggressively, so I knew she was up to something-she didn't click or snap or growl or purr or anything to indicate she acknowledged me... she just stared without intent or focus at me, like how a cat would stare at a wall.

I worked uninterrupted until the moon had taken its claim of the sky. There was a clatter of plates and the exchange of laughter illuminating the dining hall as the soldiers split bread over a hard days labor, with only me and Tessa at the outskirts of the light coming from that building, patting the last ram on the head as it snuggled into the last harness.

After my job was done, and I turned to more fully walk into that welcoming light, I felt a thread of web land on my back-before I could even shout, I was whisked into the isolated darkness.

* * *

I'll admit, there was something almost romantic about it.

Alone in an isolated, ice-spun field, the crisp winter moon hanging low in the sky, shepherding the stars away from the earth. Surrounded by trees in lovely snow dresses, which moaned and croaked a strange melody as the wind pushed past them into the field. The cold was biting, but the aggressively affectionate bite of a lover... there were even animals tender-footing through the feather-like snow-a predator, I thought, eyeing us hungrily through the trees, yearning for the unobtainable prize before it... knowing full well it could never best us.

So I'll admit, it was romantic. An ill-fitting mood, however, considering my partner.

"It's bloody cold." I whined, half-lying out of desperation to find something to complain about. "And I'm tired."

Naturally it had been my intention to spend at least some of the night training with Tessa, but I was feeling emasculated enough having to admit that her way might be the best way to survive this fight. Having to further admit that it was smart to continue training into the night would have just made me feel worthless. And I'd rather come out sounding like a wimp then a coward.

...I'm not sure why I felt I needed to justify my pride to a spider, though. I guess that's one of those things you don't think about at the time.

"Pride is blind and dumb

Keen to subject man or beast

To selfish demands"

Tessa didn't heed my complaining much. Nor did she, I think, give it much credibility to begin with. Instead, she sat opposite of the field, staring at me, as we often did, and waited for me to shut up and meet her gaze. After I had pushed whatever further tactics my self-esteem had devised to try to save itself out of my forethoughts, I was able to oblige her.

There's something about Tessa that I simply can't describe. There's something she can do to you, an experience, that renders words... purposeless. I've thrown every noun, adjective, and verb I know at it, but they just bounce harmlessly off my memory of it. I could do it before, because it was something passive, something my mind could quantify, but not this time. I think it's because Tessa doesn't use the same language I use, and she had so thoroughly linked her mind into mine that when I look back on it, I find myself thinking in the same words she used... some language not of words, but of... just... doing.

But when she locked eyes with me, it's exactly what she did. As a result, our souls became so violently intertwined that when she started to draw power from some unknown source, started to literally grow before my eyes-harness the rage that had festered in the walls of her throat for so long now-I felt it too. A feral hatred. A animalism fury. A bestial wrath.

For the ten seconds that it lasted, I felt like a God.

When the feeling passed, I was astonished. Tessa had shown me something, had shared some of her power with me, and to do it, she had to... well, I'll just call it "merge"... with me. It had taken my breath away, and a rogue blast of air rushing over my lips had to remind me to take another one.

Little did I realize just how intense that night was going to get.

* * *

Indeed, she wasn't just sharing a trick with me. It was training. For the next hour, we practiced merging. It was something I didn't quiet understand, but she didn't let me do anything but stand and stare as she merged with me, again and again, each time sending my body into that powerful, hateful, liberating state before letting me crash down again... catch my breath... then repeat.

When I tried to walk away, she stopped me. When I tried to get on my knees, she forced me up. When I tried to close my eyes, well... lets just say she made it necessary that I open them again.

Because there came a time I wanted to stop. The rush of merging... it was powerful. It was something foreign within me I felt I could barely control, and I had to endure it, over, and over, and over... it put strain on my body and strain on my mind, constantly transforming, containing and embracing those surges of raw power... It was hell. But every time she did it, it got just a little bit easier. To this day I can only guess at what she was trying to accomplish... was she just trying to accommodate me to the sensation? Get me so used to it that I could enter this state seamlessly in the middle of combat? Was she trying to get my soul more welcome to 'merging' so she can do it at a moment's notice, with us only needing to glance each others eyes in order to activate it? I don't know. I still don't know.

But whatever it was, she was done after an hour. At which point I was ready to cry.

She didn't humor me, though. I fell to my knees, and she shuffled past me, back to camp-knowing I'd get up myself, unless I wanted to even out the predators odds, considering I didn't have a gun on me. And I did. I pulled myself off the ground as she moved past me, brushed the sliver of water out from under my eye, and I did something I never thought I'd do...

...I followed her.

* * *

Everyone else was asleep. Likely forbidding themselves from much conversation, both as a precaution for the day ahead and as a show of begrudging respect to the busy day that had made them all so tired in the first place. Without making a peep, I slid through the isles, found my bed, and tucked myself in, only glancing once behind me to make sure Tessa wasn't there. Following me.

She wasn't.

That night, I dreamt of that forest again. I saw people in it this time... just bits of them, though. I recognized their eyes as they floated between the leaves. I tried to reach them, to brush the greenery aside, but... I couldn't. And the pulse of the forest throbbed as strongly as it ever had.


	7. Book 1, Chapter 7: Forget

Sorry it's taken so long, all my reader. Schools in session and I've been busy with schoolwork.

Anyway, enjoy~

* * *

_"How do you survive?"_

_"I don't forget to live."_

* * *

"...holy fel, what smells in ere'?"

Not the usual morning rallying cry, but it was apt. As people began to regain consciousness their faces would convert from the standard weary collection of wrinkles to a disgusted collaboration of facial contortions-the kind you'd see on someone as an awful stench wafted into their nose for the first time.

"Did some lad or lass piss themselves?" Vyger continued, patrolling the halls not to bother sleeping feet, but to rat out the source of the offensive stench. Even I was waking up to it, waving my hand in front of my face in an effort to bat the smell away, to no avail. Mostly because I realized I was the source. Coincidentally it didn't take anyone else long to home in on me either as everyone discovered which directions got them away from it the fastest.

"Bloody ell', Marco, you spend las' night rollin' around in sheep guts?"

"N-no! I... I don't know..."

...wait.

"It was Tessa! I think she sprayed me with something last night, uh... you know, Silithids communicate with smells! Like a hormone spray!"

Some unknown guy in the barracks responded "I'll spray you with MY hormones!"

"Aw, Light, too much infermation, lad." Vyger sighed, making no gesture at all to indicate who he was talking too. "Look, jus' get yer bones out of bed n' wash up. The rest of ya, get yer bags, we ain't wastin' another second!"

Thankful for the opportunity to break away from the rest of the crowd, I stepped out of the Barracks and ran to the washing station, a little glad I had managed to avoid Vyger's "A soldier's life is lonely one" speech.

* * *

_"Now, I git that ya got a lot of... er... pressure. I mean, a soldier's life s' a lonely one, and sometimes, when we get desperate, even the tiniest little comforts seem like blessin's from the Light. N', you know, some times we get so desperate f' one of these comforts, we... er... see an opportunity f' one we normally wouldn't. Now, I've been a commander f' a long time. I've seen a lot of thins'. Lots of thin' worse than this, so I ain't here to judge ya. But next time you feel that... urge, why don'tcha jus' let me know n' I can arrange to get ya some alone time, so we can avoid takin... erm... measures like this. Okay?"_

_Coincidentally, the guy who'd started singing loudly in the shower stopped after he got that speech._

* * *

The washroom wasn't so much a room as it was a corner carved out of the dining hall where people could rinse under some cold water for a minute to get grime out of their hair and skin. It was a poor substitute for an actual wash, but it was the best we could hope for. Accommodations like soap and towels came second to metal, weapons, and food, so unless it was a holiday or someone was sharing, we just got straight melted snow. What little soap we did have was saved to be used as disinfectants in the event of a wound.

I got a little water over me, but even after my minute was up most of the stench was still stuck to me, like tree sap. I had no idea when she found the time to spray me with this stuff... probably while she was so close to me while bridling the horses. I guess I should have found this whole ordeal irksome, but more than that I was a little comforted knowing what it was she was actually doing back then.

There was something about being naked, sopping wet and alone in a cold stone room just barely lit up by a tiny window and the tiny crack of sun that had peeked over the horizon that made a man terribly aware of how very... funny he was. I mean, a few years ago, I had this picture of myself-this innocent, glorious admiration for my future self that made me want to join the army in the first place. If only the me then could see the me now-I think he'd laugh. Ask what drugs I'd started to get over the PTSD. And how long I planned to keep my beard untrimmed. Then I think he'd ask for a drink, then demand to know why all I could offer him was Thunder Ale. But I think he'd still join the army, no matter what I said in response.

I anxiously started picking at my skin while listening to the commotion outside. I was done a disservice by being given this opportunity so early in the morning: I was much too tired to be meditative. I could have used the unique relief from duty presented to me as an excuse to reflect, or, more likely, anticipate, if only I had gotten to wake up. But at that moment, well, I was still in sort of a shock. Less than five minutes ago I was in bed, and now there I was... naked, sobbing wet and alone in a cold stone room while smelling of sheep vomit.

...I really didn't want to go outside while still soaked.

Thankfully, although I wouldn't of said so in the heat of the moment, Melissa burst in while I was still naked and sitting on the floor in a big wet heap.

"What the fel are you still waiting for?!" She yelled, completely unfazed by my massive blush or efforts to preserve my dignity. "Get up! We're leaving in ten with or without you!"

She clapped her hands, and a gust of wind she apparently summoned slammed into me, drying me off a fair degree before closing the door again. Ten minutes was probably and underestimate, but it was a fair one to make-our take-off list only had four things on it-tighten the saddles, hook the carts to some oxen, take down the flag, and get our butts on our mounts. No breakfast, no uniform inspection, no training-it was commands ambition that we be at Alteric Valley by mid-day, so they'd have ample time to brief us on the battle.

Either way, she was right-I couldn't linger. I re-dressed myself in my mail armor, grabbed my pack, and went outside (where the commotion I had heard while in the wash-room had been waiting for me) to find my mount.

I didn't know which one was mine, so I scanned the files of animals waiting to be claimed looking for a name tag or instructions or any sort of sign. Unless you brought your own (and a few did), you were just given a generic mount, bred much like the bears I wrote about earlier, and you were only expected to keep it breathing until the end of the day, if at all possible. There were about 25 animals lined up, mostly horses and rams, and as I looked them over I noticed people were just claiming whichever one happened to catch their eye-I suppose they were given that instruction while I was taking my shower. I'm not sure why people chose whichever animal they did-the breeders went to great care to make sure all the animals looked identical-but I wasn't going to be picky. I found the saddle of the first animal I could reach and mounted it with the help of a step-latter, shifting about to try to get comfortable on the ram as I waited on everyone else.

I'm not sure how humans and other tall races felt about it, but I didn't like riding horses or rams or whatever. My legs were too small to wrap comfortably around the ram, and my body was too stout, so rather than feeling as one with my mount, I felt as if I was unsuccessfully attempting to do the splits on it's back, and every time it took a step forward I was punished for my failure at gymnastics.

The people who had brought their own had already saddled up and were waiting at the gate, and let me say, it was quite a sight to see them there-I felt a little underdressed on my humble ram. They weren't just riding gryphons, dragons, bears, and motorcycles... it was like they were riding on some accomplishment. I was seeing the spoils of some fight they had fought, some trial they had overcome, and I could only guess at what sort of tribune they had to surrender to claim their beasts of their own. It was a proof of their history, I suppose-something to remind that tiny bit of our brains that refuses to believe life exists outside our own that it was wrong. It was the final signature to story I couldn't read, and as much as I admired it, it also sort of... I guess it made me jealous that I hadn't apparently done anything in my life to deserve such a reward.

Maybe that's what it came down to. It was a subtle reminder that for all I'd done, I could have done more. And who liked being reminded of that?

But mount-envy or no, that's where I had to be. Still, I waited to command the ram forward-instead I used the extra height to peer around and look for someone I knew-Flo or Poppi or Melissa. I wanted to travel with them, because conversation was the difference between a stroll and a march. At first I could only really make out the general hectic state of the camp-too much talking, too much movement, too much rush for me to make anything out. It was only when I saw one of our commanders (It wasn't Vyger, but one of the others-one was another dwarf while the other was a gnome, because this was a division from Ironforge) riding a white gryphon in indifference to the cold wind and carefully pluck the Ironforge flag from atop the main barracks was I able to notice other small, seperate things. Like the bartender loading the last of many giant kegs of Thunder Ale into a wagon. Or the stable master opening the gates so the stabled hunting pets could travel beside their partners. Or that fat Draenei asking the man with the motorcycle if she could ride in the side-car.

I think he said no.

Melissa and Poppi were the first ones to come into sight, Melissa having chosen a horse-a horse that seemed very spooked by her-and was already riding towards Poppi, who was still trying to balance on the Ram he had selected. I noticed he had an extra bag on him-a wide, thin, but durable carrier that looked awkward on his back, and was probably twice as awkward to carry. Smiling to myself, I nudged the ram's side with my boot and twisted it's reigns, going to meet Poppi myself.

"Hey!" I called over, the ram trotting at a very easygoing pace, "Have you guys seen Flo around?"

"Good morning Marco!" Poppi postponed answering the question with a gleeful smile and a twist of the head. "I see you still smell terrible! I guess the water just wasn't enough to clean you off, was it?"

Melissa could only pinch her nose and wave a hand in front of her face, much as I had.

"I guess not, but she must of done it for a reason..." I lifted my arm and gave myself another little whiff-it was bad, but not so bad you couldn't get accustomed to it.

"You said they communicate with smells, right?" Melissa continued the line of inquiry, leaning on the horses swaying neck. "Maybe it's just to help her find you."

"I think smelling like that, anyone could find him anyway!" The pink-haired priest chirped, "Thank goodness it didn't do that to Flo!"

"Yeah, speaking of, where is she?"

"Still finding a mount, I bet." Melissa answered, looking around herself. "You know how picky she is, she'll only ride a Saber."

And those were in short supply on their own, but Flo had brought her own-she was probably just trying to find it.

"I'm sure she'll show up any minute now! But while we wait, we should go up front with everyone else. Wouldn't want to be left behi- oh, there you are, Tessa!"

I stopped looking around and instead peered down, and there she was-it didn't take her long to find me at all. I guess that gives some merit to Melissa's hypothesis, but I had to suspect there was a more clever meaning behind it... Tessa was a smart girl, after all, would she really do this to me just to make it easy to find me? She clicked to acknowledge me, I clicked back, then turned back up to look at my friends, who both had one eyebrow raised in reaction to my momentary laps into Silithid communication techniques.

"...yeah, let's go."

We all kicked (Poppi had to kick a few times), the mounts moved, and together we trotted to the gate to wait for the signal to leave, which would be coming soon. It wasn't a long distance to travel, but we passed a few people along the way. That couple I shoveled snow with. A human having difficulties with an apparently very uncompromising horse. That fat shaman, who was muttering to herself "If we have enough mounts, why don't we all just go when we're ready? It seems silly to have to wait around for everyone if no one could be left behind anyway..."

We found a spot near the end of the line of mounts and uniformly sighed, yawned, and stretched. It was still pretty early in the morning-the moon was still in the sky, although it was outside its element with the pale blue surrounding it making it's silvery outline nearly impossible to see. It wasn't snowing, but there was some wind carrying some unpacked snow from the tops of the nearby mountain peeks, so we were dusted occasionally.

"Oh, I forgot. Good morning, Poppi. Melissa." I started, willing to take the first swing at breaking up the silence.

"Yeah, Morning, you two." Melissa nodded, taking an extra yawn.

"Excited?" I asked, preferring not to quantify what they were supposed to be excited for.

"I'm excited to see Dun Baldar!" Poppi answered first, beaming ahead. "It's a big fortress-bigger than this little camp for sure-so I bet they have a lot more accommodations!"

"Can you imagine? Like, say, pillows not stuffed with rocks?" Melissa seemed to perk up, "Or something to drink other than Thunder Ale?"

"Do you think they have actual washrooms? With warm water or something?"

"If they did, they still wouldn't let you soak in it for long, I bet."

"I'm not so sure! Marco smells bad enough that they might let him take a whole bath!"

"Pffft, yeah, I wish."

"I still wonder why she decided to spray you with that stuff..." The heavy-eyed druid leaned over slightly, "I don't really think it's just so she could find you."

"Yeah, that answer didn't sit well with me, either."

"Maybe it's helping you two communicate!" Poppi suggested, "Perhaps it mixes with your bodily fluids-like, when sweat mixes with it, she'll smell you're tired! Or blood will let her know you're hurt!"

"So it boosts the smells of his blood and stuff so she can keep tabs on him?" Melissa raised an eyebrow at Poppi. "That's a little... what's the word?"

"Overzealous?

"Pointless?"

"No, no... uhhh... elaborate. That's it."

"...I think pointless works better..."

"What if it's supposed to be a warning, instead?" She offered, ignoring my clearly superior word selectivity, "Like, telling other silithids or whatever that Marco is her property and you shouldn't touch him?"

"I don't think she cares that much about him, to be honest!"

"I agree with Pops. We were doing some training late last night and-"

Melissa coughed very loudly, and her irritation wasn't lost on me.

"...we were doing some training last night. Maybe it's a chemical that's supposed to waft into my noise and help me... I dunno... fight harder?"

I didn't want to tell them about the thing she'd done to me. Not yet.

"Well then I think you'd be in a rage right now, wouldn't you!" The smallest of us chuckled, finally having found a way to sit comfortably on his Ram.

"...I dunno... Melissa, you're a druid, why don't you ask her?"

"Have you ever seen me transform into a beetle, Marco? If you had a bear or a bird or a... walrus, I guess, sure, but I can't into a... spider. Thing." She yawned, rubbing her eyes as if she could scrape the exhaustion out of her face.

"I thought druids could talk to animals and commune with nature or something like that."

"Well some can talk with plants. So I've heard. But otherwise, no. We're like... we're... damn, I'm too tired for this... we're... like supervisors. I guess. Nature goes and does its thing, and we just make sure nothing throws it off balance. To do that, we get powers, and some druids, like me, use these powers to fight wars we normally wouldn't give a forsaken's rotten dick about."

Based on the look on her face immediately after she said it-a mix of horror and humiliation-something slipped out that wasn't supposed too, and me and Poppi were unable to really formulate any words that were either relevant to the conversation or that would assure her that whatever it was she thought was wrong wasn't.

"You're overthinking it. She did it because she doesn't like him."

We all turned around and saw Flo approach on the back of her Froststaber, and from the second I saw her to the second she spoke next, I was stunned. She looked... good. Which was to say, everything about her seemed impeccably designed... every man's unconscious lusts had dictated to her the recipe for it's escape, and she followed that recipe as instructions from on high. She was a walking, breathing key to every desire a man can lock away in an effort to keep it seperate from his reason-demure, alluringly powerful while alarmingly gentle-proper, but ready and almost eager to be broken by affection's clumsy hand. Common sense was muddled in the subtle makeup on her face, and her eyes were so present, yet so vacant, they perfectly reflected any emotion a guy could project upon them. If you wanted her, suddenly... she wanted you, too.

Both me and Poppi were struck instantly. Melissa seemed to notice her allure but was immune to it's effects. So when both hot-blooded men in the group were hanging their mouths open dumbly in an effort to say something, Melissa took the words that were falling from our slacked jaws and made them her own.

"Wow, you look great. You have a date waiting for you in Dun Baldar or what?"

"No. This is my war paint."

She looked over at me and smiled.

"At ease, soldier."

"Ru... ru... r-right." I smiled back, pushing the blush off my face. Well this was just what I needed, now the ride would be even MORE uncomfortable.

"Flo! G-good morning!" Poppi stuttered himself, his face matching his hair.

"Good morning."

Coincidentally, most every male soldier (and at least one female one) had turned and said good morning too, and she greeted them all with brief nods and a stiff face that failed to betray just how uncomfortable she was... something I only noticed because of our history together.

* * *

_"Just throwing practice." She shrugged, moving with the confidence of leading, even if she was moving at a pace that meant she had to be following. "I know you hunters just love your big boom sticks, but it's not very subtle... and I don't know if you knew this..." She'd lean in to my ear, smirking. "But rogues? We're big on subtly."_

_"No way." I feigned surprise, "And here I thought I could bequeath my gun to you when I died."_

_"Oooh-I'd take it. I'd mount it on my wall and use it to bludgeon thieves to death."_

_"Well that's not very subtle at all!"_

_"Everything has it's time. Don't let anyone tell you Foinu is a one-trick pony!"_

_"Usually when people are talking about your tricks-"_

_She'd slap my shoulder and laugh._

_"Stop it!"_

_"Just sayin'! Just sayin'!"_

_It was a summer day, and a potent one at that. The weather had gone out of it's way to be iconically summer-like-the sun was a roaring presence in the sky, the birds were ever-present but undemanding, and the leaves floated like waves above us, dotting the shadows under them with shifting peeks and cracks of the sunlight. We were walking the path from Goldshire to Stormwind._

_"But how about you?" She asked, kicking a pebble off the dirt road._

_"Oh, target practice, as always." I shrugged, "It's all I seem to do nowadays. I really need to find a specialization."_

_"Hmmmm... can't help you there. You all seem the same to me."_

_"Yeah, I know, point, shoot, bad guy falls over. Most people wouldn't see hunters having much versatility."_

_We only occasionally talked. There was nothing about our brief, brief, history of conversations (It could all be recorded with a single dip of the pen) that told me I could make jokes of her or take such a casual, familiar tone, but summer days like that just permeate right through the skin and wash away reservation. Nothing warranted my tone, but likewise there was nothing telling me she wouldn't be okay with it, and when given the choice between being comfortable or uncomfortable around someone, why choose the latter? _

_"...well, you said it, not me. But say, while I have you, I wanted to ask-do you know some guy named Marcus?"_

_"Marcus... he's that Draenei, right?"_

_"Right. He's A Draenei, anyway. He invited me to this party tonight-something to celebrate completing the trust exercises. He creeps me out a bit, so I was hoping you could come, too. A familiar face would really help me relax."_

_I smirked._

_"A party? For finishing trust exercises?"_

_"I guess he was just looking for an excuse!" She smirked back._

_"...you know, why not? It'd be fun. Getting to know some other people in the battalion."_

_"That's good to hear. I'm sure he's not that bad, but just in case... if you see my lips twitch while around him, you'll need to come to my rescue. Say I'm drunk or something."_

_I tilted my head at her, picking a fallen leaf out of my beard._

_"What?"_

_"It's this weird tick I have. When I'm really uncomfortable, my lips twitch. Just a bit. Most people don't notice, but you're a hunter-use those eyes!"_

_"Alright, alright... where is it?"_

_"Oh, right! You'll want to know that to go, won't you? We're meeting at Goldshire at 9, and from there he's gonna take us to his house. Apparently it's not far."_

_"Nine? My instructor wanted to see me at six tonight."_

_"Really? Mine too."_

_"Weird. Think it's the same thing?"_

_"I doubt it."_

_"Probably."_

_The gates of Stormwind welcomed us, and she broke off from me, running ahead._

_"See you tonight!" She called back, before reaching another group of night-elf woman, who greeted her with a group hug. Like a fraternity. There was so much talking I couldn't keep up with it all, but I didn't need to-I just gave her a polite wave before walking past the group, my own destination in mind._

* * *

Her lips didn't twitch anymore. She had curbed that reflex. But I could still tell when it was supposed to. It grew ridged, over-compensating to oppress the twitch, which was something most would simply overlook.

"Still, that doesn't make much sense." Melissa yawned once more, but talked over it. "I assumed you and Tessa had gotten over your feud."

...oh, right-we were talking about Tessa's stench, weren't we?

"Yeah. So did I..." I mused, looking down at Tessa with the corner of my eye as she dodged an oncoming mammoth. "we've gotten past hate and we've moved on to apathy."

"Some could argue that's worse, you know! I don't like healing people because it means someone got hurt, but I use that hatred to fuel my healing!"

"I'm not sure that sort of thinking would be applicable in my case."

"Well, if Tessa hated you... she... uh..."

"...she'd have no reason to help him." Flo flatly stated.

"...which means she'd devote more energy into killing the horde! Ha!"

Flo rolled her eyes, but Poppi was kind of right-in a weird way, it made sense. Right now it was our apathy that allowed us to cooperate and at least show concern that the other don't die. If we hated one another, though, neither of us would feel obligated to hold back for the other's sake... and we could take or hatred and channel it into our fighting.

"Yeah, good one!" Melissa would raise her hand to high-five the gnome, but leave it intentionally too high for him to reach. She grinned like an idiot, the edges of her lips pushing against the bags weighting her eyes down, as she watched him raise his hand on instinct, only for his face drop as he saw the heights she was expecting him to reach.

"Oh, you can blow a kod-"

"Alright!" The general's voice set over us, and all conversation stopped. "We're opening the gates in ten... nine... eight..."

We straightened our backs, re-established our grips on our reigns, and pushed the hair out of our eyes. On the count of one, the gates were thrown open and everyone... started walking their mounts out at a casual pace. The row of animals began to expand, like a spring de-compressed, and when the wave of moving coils reached us we kicked into the side of our beasts (Melissa kicked into the side of Poppi's so he wouldn't slow down the line) and set out onto the road.

We expected a three hour journey. Let's see how the conversation would fare.

* * *

"It was pretty unconventional, but it was fun." Melissa's eyes lit up as the memory set her skull aflame. "What I did was I opened a bottle of port-it was my dad's favorite-and emptied it. Then... well, I waited for one of our horses to go pee, and-"

"-you DIDN'T!" Poppi squeaked, grinning like a schoolgirl.

"Well, I mean, I boiled it first, to kill bacteria so he wouldn't get sick, but yeah! Best part was, he drank it all ANYWAY. Only commented on the taste after I asked!"

"What'd he say?" Flo asked, eyebrows perked.

"A little strong. Now that I think about it, I don't think he noticed..."

"Makes you wonder what he'd been watering his horses with."

"...you don't think...?"

"Well, its no fun to drink alone..." I chuckled.

"How about you, Poppi?" She quickly changed subjects.

"Well, nothing too serious! There was this one soldier back when I was still new in camp-he wouldn't stop coming to me for heals! And I mean for anything-cuts, bruises, sores... why, I bet if so much as swallowed wrong he would have come to me asking for some magic! I always refused him, of course-I don't treat idiots, as I say! But he kept coming back, and one day he came to me complaining about a slight stomach ache, and I'll tell you, I was sick of him! So I gave him some pills... just some laxatives, a harmless prank... well, stupid me! Not five minutes later he comes to me complaining about that!"

The reaction to his story didn't amount to much more than a few grins, so he passed the baton.

"Marco?"

"Well, unlike YOU two, I didn't feed anyone anything. I had a roommate a while back-back when I was still apprenticing as a stable hand, so you know this was at least 20 years ago-and we never really got along. He was agreeable enough but real invasive. Kept cleaning up after me, even when I told him to stop. Well, one day, I saw a book on the counter, and when I asked him about it, he said it was a gift he was going to give his girlfriend for their anniversary."

"If he had a girlfriend, why was he staying with you?" Melissa asked.

"Religious type. Saving herself. Didn't want to take the chance."

"Ah..."

"Anyway, I saw an opportunity to get back at him, so I got a goblin's gentleman magazine, cut out the pictures, and glued them between the pages of the book!"

I started to laugh, Melissa snorted, and Flo smirked, but Poppi gave me a frown of disapproval.

"Macro! That could have seriously hurt their relationship!"

"It was just harmless fun!"

"Are you sure of that?! Did you talk to him afterwords?!"

"Well... um... Flo, any stories?"

"I don't prank."

"...oh."

"Poppi asked you a question."

"...right."

Her grin grew wider as she forced me to confront Poppi's wrath. Jerk.

* * *

"No, don't be silly! Let the man continue!"

Hector smiled graciously at Poppi.

"As I was SAYING... you hear all sorts of things staying up. Why, just a few days ago, I heard some poor sap calling for his mother in his dreams. Once I was that kind of guy-someone who slept a lot. But with some time at the library I got over it!"

"Really?" Poppi asked, engrossed by my bunk-mate.

"Oh, yes! Why, they've had doctors come from around the globe to study sleep-not what druids do, mind, but regular sleep-and they've come to some fascinating conclusions! Did you know the body only needs two hours of sleep, and the mind only needs one?"

"So why do we sleep for eight hours?" Melissa followed up, like a good investigator.

"Don't you know? When asleep, we lose track of ourselves! The brain turns off! When it thinks to turn itself back on again, it's over-slept! It's why we feel so groggy in the mornings, you know-too much sleep."

I think I was the only one not entirely buying this guy's story.

"How's that work?" Flo asked.

"Oh, well, when we sleep, we produce this drug-like substance in our spine. It goes through our body and brain to counter-act the effects of the wear and tear we endure every day! We only produce it while asleep, but when we sleep too long, excess pools of it build up around our body." He'd grin, closing his eyes and raising a single finger like a professor. "So when we wake up, we have to move around a little bit in order to make some wear and tear so we use up the excess substance!"

Flo's ears twitched pleasingly when he said the word "drug", but it was Melissa who spoke next.

"So if you sleep for a long time, you'd build up so much of this stuff that when you woke up you'd never have to sleep again for a while?"

"Sure! It's why Malfurion never sleeps!"

Ugh.

* * *

"So, time for your final decisions." I announced... "One... two... go!"

"Warlocks."

"Warlocks."

"Warlocks."

"Hunt-I mean, Warlocks."

"Alright. Warlocks it is." I nodded, pleased with the unanimity. "And if we had to ban one type of fighter from joining the alliance, we'd pick..."

"Warlocks."

"Warlocks."

"Warlocks."

"Warlocks."

"...alright, that didn't take nearly as long as I'd expected."

* * *

My turn. "Hat."

Poppi's: "Hair"

Melissa's: "Leg"

Flo's: "Cold"

Mine: "Winter"

Poppi's: "Fur"

Melissa: "Body"

Flo: "Cold."

"Damn, you're bad at this game, Flo." Melissa grunted.

Which was quite a feat: all you had to do was say the first word you thought of when you heard the previous word.

"I'm _cold_." Flo stressed.

"Then wear a _jacket._"

"Uggggh." I heaved, leaning back to spit off the horse, perhaps suspiciously close to Tessa. "This is boring. How much longer till we get there?"

"At least you've got a ride. How do you think Tessa feels? Or the goat you've got your butt parked on!" Poppi observed, I suppose in an effort to cheer me up.

"I'd happily trade places with her at this point. I just want to move my legs some. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to be this sho..."

Poppi looked at me in a way that reminded me what exactly it was I was going to say next.

"...well you know what I mean!"

We'd moved some ways through the mountains by now. We had taken a brief stop earlier due to a wagon's wheel breaking in a rut in the main road, but it'd largely been uneventful. Still, it felt like a whole different world was down here than our little camp near a mountain peek. There were wide expanses of pitch-white flatlands, barren trees deep in their winter hibernation, deep canyons that cut a swath the mountains like a giant sword had plunged into the earth from space, a frozen river and waterfall that looked flash-frozen, stilled in a moment of action...

I even saw a harpy in the distance. A harpy! That was pretty exciting, although I seemed to be the only one who thought so. If I recall, the only person to comment on my appreciation for the half-bird was an off-handed comment by someone behind me, who muttered "you HAVE seen a naked tit before, right?"

Dumbass. Anyway, we were just about worn down at that point. They were my friends, but three hours was a lot to ask of us... we didn't want to talk about family, or future plans, or what was waiting for us after the battle, and between friends, what does that leave us to talk about? Stories from our past we can detach ourselves from-things we don't mind losing, so we're willing to bring them to our forethoughts. Bits of random trivia. Stupid word games. And, of course, weather.

* * *

"It's cold."

"Yes."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

* * *

Depth was a taboo, in a manner of speaking. Why wouldn't we prefer to wade, even if it meant boredom? The deepest waters were scary places when you saw how dark it could get...

Regardless of how exhaustively we could talk about nothing, however, we were running out of topics just in time-before our collective irateness caused a divide, Vyger's commanding voice boomed over us.

"WE'RE 'ERE! GET READY TO DISMOUNT!"

And just as we passed a corner... we saw Dun Balar.

It was a soothing balm for the eyes, that's for sure, but even if we weren't hungry for the sight, we would have been happy to see it. It just seemed so much more... mature. Everything was developed, refined, and reenforced-the fortress was a veteran in spirit, truly prepared to sit at the front of the Alliance lines and endure battle with the horde. Each tower was jutted monsters, with yawning open tops and the gray sturdy base of boulders, with battered blue banners draped across the front. A sort of brazen boast, which turned to a striptease when the wind picked up.

For all it's immediate majesty, however, as I got closer, I realized it was fairly barren. Between the three towers there was a ghetto of elaborate tents lined up, where soldiers and guards were filing out to watch us descend into the fortress. While sandwiched by steep cliffs on both sides, the front of Dun Baldar was guarded by a massive canyon, with a sturdy wooden bridge connecting the two sides of our empty moat.

On the other end of the gap, a unsettling reminder of our likely fates-a graveyard.

"EVERYONE THROUGH!" Vyger stopped on the side of the road and started waving us in. "Make two rows of twenty!"

We stayed mounted and started to file in, casting glances at one another of relief and appreciation-we'd gotten close to losing it, but we had made an entire three hours worth of conversation in the heart of thoughtlessness. We didn't admit this accomplishment to each other in any tangible way-we weren't thinking "Gee, how great we stayed purposely ignorant that long", but we were thankful at how irrelevant we managed to keep things.

Maybe it was a sign that we didn't trust one another. Or maybe it was in faith that there was nothing we could confide within them they didn't have already in abundance. Maybe a mix of the two.

We lined up as ordered, watching dwarf and human soldiers congregate around us. They appeared more proper than we did-they wore proper uniforms, carried standard-issue mass produced weaponry, and moved with more ridged discipline. But that was because they were lower rank than us. Less powerful. It was like they didn't have enough strength to push out of the boundaries of the military, and thus were still entrenched deep within it's borders, and were thus ruled more strictly by the expectations of their post.

Ridged rules to compensate for quick-to-falter confidence, I suppose. A emotional cast.

"Alright, company-dismount!"

We all slid off our respective mounts and stood, in attention, next to them. Almost universally our beasts arched their backs and let a low animalistic moan out from their lips as their burdens were eased, and Tessa, who was staring around with great interest, clicked absently.

"And... salute!"

We raised our hands to our foreheads, put our heels together, stiffened our lips, raised the eyebrows, stiffened our backs, and held ourselves still for a passing moment before relaxing back into an unorganized pool of slouches and impatient, tired animals.

"Get yer' beasts to the Stable master n' eat what ya can-we're briefing in half an hour!"

* * *

The stable-master was a wildhammer dwarf, and what's more, one of those elusive young female dwarves that seem to only populate myths and legends. I didn't really have time to chat her up-there was a line of people wanting to get their beasts taken care of so they could eat, and frankly, I wasn't really in the mood to make a few dozen enemies for some half-hearted and likely not receptive flirtation.

Yes, it was impossible to hide our petulance now. In a little less than twenty minutes there would be no avoiding confrontation with tomorrow. And let me tell you, I was feeling a restlessness settle within my muscles. I could barely sit down to eat, because most every fiber in my body ached to be trained, toned, sculpted, stressed, strained-any exercise that would improve my odds tomorrow. Fel, I even wanted to try the Bestial Wrath training again, ignoring my rather vivid memory of how emotionally draining the experience was.

But I forced myself to eat, and focused on the chewing rather than the flavor of the food. I had opted to keep a bit of distance between me and the rest of the gang, preferring Tessa's company at the moment. Besides, I still smelled to high heaven, and the last thing anyone needed was to gag while picking the mold out of their goat cheese.

But there was one person who wasn't bothered by the smell-probably because his nose had grown somewhat numbed to anything less than the rancid punch of a half-decayed corpse.

"What ya doin' eatin' all the way out ere'?" Vyger asked, approaching my isolated little corner with a energized smile. I never would have guessed he'd been up for twice as long as we were, and had endured the same trek.

"Meh. Not... really in the mood for conversation."

"Aww, now thas' a pity." He walked up to Tessa and affectionately patted her on the head. "Anxious bou' tomorrow?"

"Everyone is."

"Well, sure. But anxious ain't got a single meanin'-ya can' be anxious for surgery, f' example, but are ya nervous about goin' under the knife, or excited about gettin' a bullet taken out?"

"I assumed the former. I mean, nervousness."

"Naw, naw. I can' wait!" He'd cheer, singing his bravery like a hymn, "I'm anxious ta show' those Frostwolf mutts the business end of m' Axe n' Hammer!"

"Well, sure. That's YOU. You're a battle freak. The rest of us..."

"Hey, now," He'd begin scratching Tessa under the chin, and she seemed... unusually affectionate. I guess getting her butt kicked warmed her up to him. Or she was afraid of getting on his bad side by refusing to return his warmth. Little brown-nose. "Ya can't be speakin' for everyone like that. S' a dangerous slope."

"Hmm?" I gripped a chunk of bread between my teeth and tore it off, preventing me from being more articulate.

"Look ere'-ya can neva make assumptions bou' what yer friends and companions are thinkin'. I mean, more n' a few people 'ere are excited as I am to crack some skulls. Mosta us are 'ere are lookin' for honor-s' why you joined the army, ain't it? F' honor?"

I had to concede that point. It was the allure of honor and recognition that drove me to this point.

"See, assumptions like that? They're dangerous n' a battle, because when ya make assumptions ya begin ta use em' to validate things ya good senses would normally forbid. S' a matter of fact, s' a mistake I've made m'self."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. N' I don' wanna see ya fall inta the same trap. It can..." He'd pause, a uncharacteristic show of hesitation, before grabbing the handles of the conversation once again. "...end badly."

"...huh."

"Tell ya what-I'll tell ya the story f' ya make it out alive tomorra."

"Well, now I HAVE too." I smirked.

"Damn right. Be ready in five-meetin's almost startin'."

* * *

I wasn't really sure at the time how significant I was supposed to find his warning at the time, but it did get me thinking, at least.

I suppose I was an assumptive person. I read into things a bit deeper than perhaps I had the right to. On the walk here, did we avoid deep subjects because we were too scared to think about life? Or were we just... shallow friends? Did I have any evidence from our shared past that would prove it one way or another? Was I being paranoid? Was Vyger just making me doubt myself?

What's more, was it that unusual to make assumptions?

I decided, as I took my seat on a wooden chair in one of the towers waiting for the General to show, in the company of my company, that I would make it a point to ask my friends how they felt about the battle, now that we were on the eve of it. That might make them resent me, if they felt they needed to oppress that reality as much as possible, but... maybe assuming they were scared too was the source of my own fear.

People filed in the seats, but the conversation was breezy and light. Something that didn't so much take up the air as it did meekly share it's space. I didn't partake, and when Flo and Poppi sat next to me, outside a quick nod, we didn't talk, although Poppi had that look on his face that told us he had something he wanted to say.

When the general took to the front of the makeshift stage she was given, she began with complete indifference to if everyone was present.

"Early tomorrow morning, you're to go to the far north end of the valley and wait in a cave we've chiseled out of the surrounding hills and prepare for battle. You'll eat there, enhance yourself with magic, sharpen your blades... whatever needs to be done. At the signal, the gate will open. From there, we expect you to act with swiftness and efficiency."

She summoned a map, which she spread across a nearby table, which was lifted to a tilt so everyone could see it well enough.

"We have three primary objectives. The first is the elimination of Drek'thar, who is hiding in this fortress," She'd point her slim-bladed sword at a large red mark upon the map, a little south of the center, "He is a source of pride for the horde, but moreover, he can grant them boons in combat so long as he breaths. His death will weaken their units and hurt their morale."

"The second is the burning of their forward towers-Tower point, Iceblood Tower, and both the East and the West Frostwolf tower." As she listed them, she pointed to the corresponding tower on the map. "They're resilient to explosives and we cannot get siege engines up these mountains, so you'll have to set them on fire through magic. It will take a while, so you'll need to stay in order to keep the horde from re-capturing the towers. Once a tower is aflame, the Horde will be forced to devote a sizable portion of their reinforcements into trying to contain the fire-efforts which will be overseen personally by one of the captains protecting the enemy general in Frostwolf Keep."

"The third, and most important, is the assassination of the Frostwolf general, Drek'Thar, who is in Frostwolf Keep. He's a powerful Shaman and a clear-minded tactician, but without the help of his captains he shall be easy to destroy. Still, do not underestimate him-his force combined with his captains would make quick work of a unprepared unit."

He turned her head away from the map and stared us down, even though she stood below the Draenei, Night Elves, and Humans.

"I've consulted with General Stormpike, and we've both determined that the completion of these primary objectives should be your first and last concern. The horde will likely attempt a similar maneuver, but experience has taught us that fighting this battle defensively will result in a slow defeat, so we'll simply have to be faster than them. Once Drek'Thar is dead, they'll be forced to retreat, and the valley will be ours. Any questions?"

The first to raise her hand, and the first to get the generals nod of approval, was the Draenei Shaman.

"So it's just a race? Who can kill who's general the fastest?" She asked, her voice abrasive.

"Yes."

"If we know this is what they're planning, why would we send our own captains to take care of the fires THEY'LL start?"

"Because that's their job."

"Why don't we send more of the Stormpike soldiers? They won't stand a chance against the horde unit anyway, and-"

"-I think you've had your turn." The general cut her short, quick to grow impatient with incessant lines of inquiry. "Any other questions?"

Another soldier raised their hand-it looked like the Night Elf who helped me shovel.

"Is there ever a situation where we're allowed to go back and try to defend?"

"So long as sufficient progress is being made with our main objectives, you can devote some efforts to sabotaging the Horde. However, do not feel obligated-the Stormpike captains assure me that this is their charge, and their soldiers will carry the burden of defense."

He sat back down, and another soldier took the stage-someone I didn't recognized.

"What about you?"

"I won't be present. General Stormpike said there was little reason to risk both of our lives. Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen-this is a gamble. We're betting that you can get the job done faster than the horde. Do not disappoint us."

He sat back down, and after a few seconds passed where no one asked a question, she spoke one last time.

"Mr. Anvilthrow wished to give a speech before we let you go, since there won't be time tomorrow."

Graciously, she stepped down, and Vyger took to the front, 'the look' bulging out of his eyes.

"Solders, friends, n' fighters 'f the Alliance-First I wanna thank you for bein' here. It takes dedication, skill, resolve, n' a little bit a luck to get this far, but you all 'ave shown more than that by bein' here. By bein' here, in this room, in this fort at the eve of battle, you've shown ya have a compassion that'd shame a saint. People don' get this far without havin' somethin' they want to protect-ya need a reason to fight, n' that reason ain't ever found in hatred. Desires f' revenge, the heat of rage, the sting a' prejudices-those wane in time. It ain't substantial. But the desire ta save, the desire for peace, to make the future a better place-that will always stay strong. And it's that love that's carried us as far as we've gotten.

"I want ya to close yer eyes and see who yer protectin' right now, by bein' here. Family. Mothers n' fathers, brothers n' sisters. Friends waitin' for you back home who raise a glass every night in yer honor. Husbands n' wives who stare at th' empty spot in the bed you share with nothin' but the memories ta keep em' warm. Children who wake up each morning 'n think 'today's the day they're coming home'. I want ya to see them in yer minds eye... n' I want you ta remember ya ain't just fighin' f' them. The soldier next to ya is also seein' someone you're protectin'. The guy in front of ya can also see someone who yer fightin' for. Everyone n' this room is seen' someone that you are fighting to protect and shelter from th' Horde. N' they're fightin' fer your someone, too.

"Tomorrow, ya need to go inta battle rememberin' what we're here' to protect. And you also need to remember that ya ain't doin' it alone. Some of ya... some of ya are gonna die tomorrow. I thin' the world of you all n' none of ya are gonna go easy, but I ain't here to lie to ya. Some of you will die. But don' be afraid-because as long as even ONE of us breaths, we'll carry yer berdens and we'll protect that person you see in yer head until we've given our very last!"

Vyger raised his axe into the air, and proudly shouted his battle-oath:

"My loyalty is to the Alliance! My heart is in Ironforge! And my axe-is for the Horde!"

* * *

There was a funny story about the cliff that guarded in front of the fortress, I was told. There was actually a time it was deeper-a long enough drop to kill anyone who fell off the bridge. But it was actually filled with snow and stones to the point where people could just barely survive the fall... to prevent it's use as a means of suicide for soldiers on both sides.

I wasn't thinking about suicide, but my mind was still on death.

"Alright. I'm ready." I loosened my shoulders and breathed out, letting the tension in my chest flow out with my sigh. Tessa, who was opposite me in the empty field adjacent to the cliff, clicked, and on cue, I opened my eyes to meet hers, and from the second my brain could register the color of her iris, we started our merge. I was getting better-every time it seemed we could shave a few milliseconds off.

It still felt like the skin of my veins was being stripped by a flamethrower, but baby steps.

After ten seconds, I returned to normal, and closed my eyes again.

"Tessa, how do you even do this?" I asked, collapsing into the snow behind me, eyes still fluttering from the light of the sun despite being closed.

She didn't answer in any audible fashion, and when I opened one eye to see if she was doing something with her body, I instead caught hold of her eyes, and involuntarily I started to merge again.

* * *

"He's still doing it?"

"It sure looks that way!"

"Ugh."

She threw her sack into a tent which had been prepared for her so violently that it caused Poppi to put one hand on the back of her knees.

"Calm down there, Melissa! Something the matter?"

She sighed, staring at the unfurled pack she had just thrown into the unstable walls of the tent.

"You know how I feel about Marco."

"We've talked about it, yes."

"This makes it worse."

His eyes slanted with concern, and he gently patted her leg as a physical show of reassurance.

"He's on your side, Melissa-and that will never change."

"That might be true normally. But did you see what she can do to him now? He gets all... red and stuff when she so much at looks at him! And he grows!"

"It's a little jarring, I'll admit, but how unusual is it? You can turn into a bear at any time-think of how scary that can be for an outsider!"

"No, no, it's DIFFERENT. Marco isn't an outsider. He knows that when I'm a bear my brain is the same old brain it's always been. But we don't know that this time!"

"Well what reason do you have to think that Marco's brain is affected?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, turning to look in my direction again.

"I can... feel things. From her. There's so much anger radiating out from that bug... and it's going into Marco when they do that... that THING they do. Who knows how it's messing with his mind?"

"Melissa... he's a strong kid. He's got a tough heart. He knows better than to mess with things that would alter his perceptions!"

"He'd better." She breathed out of her nose, a long, dissatisfying sigh. "Because if he so much as points his gun at you when in that form, I'll..."

"...I'll be sure to turn around, because there'd probably be a rogue about to gorge me!"

She sighed properly, nudging her rolled-up sleeping back with the tip of her foot.

"...I wanna go to bed."

"Then do that. I'll tell everyone else you weren't feeling well."

She looked over at him, her face still down, and stared at his smiling old face with troubled affection brewing in her half-lit eyes.

"No... I'll go."

* * *

"Well," Vyger shrugged, lifting his flask into the air much as he did with his axe earlier, "It ain't quite the same, but she'll 'ave to do! Cheers!"

The bartender, who had found such comfort and relief in his job, had re-established the old watering hole for a single night in his own tent. He had three big barrels of Thunder Ale stacked into a pyramid near the back, and he sat in front of them like a watchman, filling any glasses or empty containers thrust in his direction.

We lifted our mugs to tap into his, and we all drank a toast.

"Shame I was wrong about this place." Melissa sighed, "Seems it'll be Thunder Ale till we get out of here."

"You know, it's not so bad." I smiled weakly, exhausted and spent after the two hours of training I'd spent with Tessa. "I think you just have to be in the right mindset."

My comment was met with a round of mehs.

"I'd prefer moonglow."

"I'd take burbon over this piss."

"Do you know what I really miss? Cow milk."

"'Ell! We should be drinkin' somethin' with more punch!"

"...well whining isn't gonna change anything, so deal."

We finished out drinks together, but didn't hand the empty mugs back to the bartender-instead we fingered the cups, patting them with our fingers to play an unorganized chaotic little beat, each tap the measure of a heartbeat, even if not the heart that was in one of our chests.

"...shouldn't drink too much tonight." Poppi noted, stating what we all knew.

"Hmmm."

"...are you guys scared?" I suddenly asked, seized by the moment.

I didn't have to turn my head to look at them-we were all in a circle, a huddle in the corner of the tent, as others around us pushed us towards each other as the crowd got more compact-so I could see the question made them a little uncomfortable. Vyger being the exception, so he went first.

"'Ell no! I can' wait to crack a few skulls! I've been countin' the minutes!"

Poppi answered next. He appeared... thoughtful. I could tell already, whatever it was he was going to say, there was more to it than the words he decided to share.

"...I'm happy I'll be there." He slowly started, eyes drifting past us for a moment before re-focusing on the gauntlet in his hand, which he squeezed with affection like a child would his mothers. "But sad I have to be."

Melissa and Flo looked at each other, and without a word exchanged, the dark-skinned druid took the stage.

"...I'm scared. Not of the fighting itself, but... well, there's more to be scared of than dying, right?"

Flo didn't answer, and no one seemed to expect her too.

"This will be our first battle together. As friends. I mean, we've fought before, but... never together. Never in a battle this important."

"That's right! And we'll watch each other's backs-and the backs of our allies-the whole time!" Poppi smiled, nudging Melissa's side with his elbow.

"Yeah, we will!" Melissa smiled sweetly at the group, shoving Poppi back, causing him to fall over comically due to the size discrepancy.

"She'll be grand-ya'll get ta see me in m' business-n' business is good!"

"...not sure that's how the saying's supposed to go."

"...what?!"

"Yeah, it's supposed to be like 'War is my business, and business is good'"

"...that don' make s' much sense."

"It makes MORE sense."

"No, no, cuz look, whatcha jus' said is redundant, I mean, ya'll know m' a soldier so it goes without _sayin'_ m' business is war. But we're talkin' about you gettin' to see me in a battle so-"

"-well then you should have picked a better phrase, like, 'Now you get to see me get down to business.'"

Vyger gave me a very forthright expression that made it perfectly clear how he felt about my nitpicking.

"Don' make me punch ya. I will."

Challenge accepted.

"Don't make me punch you

I am not saying I will

But my fist is set."

He punched me, which everyone seemed to find pretty funny. I didn't, but then again, even if I did want to laugh there was a fist in the way.

* * *

Night set early. Or maybe my definition of night was broadened so I wouldn't have to admit I was going to sleep before the sun could finish setting. There wasn't an official barracks, as before, so we had retired into seperate tents which were spread all across the fortress. They were flimsy, cheep things, designed to be taken down at literally a moment's notice, so they couldn't resist the wind or snow at all, and gave at the slightest show of force.

It wasn't a comfortable place to be. Laying in the tent, eyes wide open as I stared at the ugly orange canopy over me, I felt trapped by the delicacy of the very object designed to protect me from the roughness outside. Maybe it was just the stress skewing my perception, but it felt like even a sneeze would be enough to make this entire structure collapse around me.

I couldn't sleep.

There was still motion around me. I could tell by the clever ways the light that was left behind by the sunset accommodated the shadows, by the way the snow vibrated under me, the fine sounds of air being pushed past a body. Things far too muted in our daily lives to be bothered by them, but when you were trying to sleep and everything was conspiring to keep you awake, it became hard not to notice. It sort of compiled on top of one another, the noise made noise of it's own on the journey to reach my ear.

...I was probably just imagining it. Mom always said I had too much.

I sat up. Deciding it was better to acknowledge my restlessness so I could combat it rather than trying to deny it was there, I crawled out of my paper cave and looked around-trying to find something to help me get the shut-eye I felt I deserved. My mind wandered to Flo. She usually had a stash of light drugs she used to calm her edgy nerves, like that Felweed she had been smoking earlier. She normally wasn't the type to share, considering it was expensive stuff and not allowed in our platoon, but given the circumstances I was hoping she'd be a little more giving.

* * *

"It won't help you sleep." She flatly said, a plume of smoke wafting out of her tent the second she opened the flap, but she held the door open anyway, inviting me in.

"I just need to calm my nerves." I smiled weakly, stepping in and allowing her to close the flap once more. It was more than a little strange to see her like this, alone in her poorly-lit tent, wearing at least three layers of blankets over her body with only her face peeking out from the top. The bags under her eyes were massive, like her tear ducts were stuffed with pine cones, and she scratched at her face with so much I might of believed that metaphor was literal.

"Might not even do that." She barfed out the words, taking another long inhale of the felweed roll in her mouth. "Do I look calm to you?"

I smirked, shifting uncomfortably under her glassed-over glaze, but couldn't say anything to it.

"I'll give you something." She sighed, reaching behind her pillow and pulling out a small vial. "It's just medicine. Something for colds. It'll make you drowsy."

I tilted my head, eyebrows furrowed.

"Don't you want to sleep?"

"Not yet."

"Oh."

She poured me a thimble of the dark gray syrup, and handed it to me.

"Is it safe to drink this even when I don't have a cold?" I asked, pinching the tiny container between my fingers. She didn't answer-she wasn't a pharmacist or particularly experienced with taking proper medicine recreationally, but she did shrug in a manner to make it perfectly clear that I was asking the wrong person.

"...Well, what's the worst that can happen?" I drink it all down without a second thought. It had a bitter tang to it, but my tongue had faced far more formidable drinks and came out unscathed, so I could endure this without so much as a twitch on my face.

I handed her back the thimble, which she screwed back on the top of the medicine vial.

"I don't want to be rude, but... you should go, before you fall asleep."

She smiled at me-it was a smile with many cracks in it, cracks that wouldn't be filled with drugs alone, but she was revved up to try anyway.

"Don't worry about it." I got to my feet, smiling back. "I'll be on my way."

"You snore. I'd never sleep." She giggled.

"Well you kick, so I'd keep waking up." I snorted, swaying slightly, before blinking hard.

"...you weren't kidding. Stuff works fast."

"I get a lot of colds."

"Do you?"

"You see what I wear in this weather."

"By the way, Did you decide...?"

"I'll keep it covered."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah. Good."

My eyes went out of focus, but a quick shake of my head fixed that.

"...goodnight, Flo."

"Night, Marco."

And I stepped out.

On my way back to my tent, I saw all that movement that was bothering me earlier-the stuff that made noise so white it was usually impossible to see with the snow-displayed to me in a drunkenly drowsy daze. People shifting between tents, couples meeting up for one last kiss before they retire to their seperate tents (Sadly for them there was no way they could get away with anything more), the occasional lantern-wielding night watchman who patrolled the road and the alleys between tents on the lookout for spies or people sneaking around... and I could even recognize Hector walking around, approaching one of those watchmen...

"I think I saw something out here."

"What?"

"It was a big cat. Like a druid."

"A enemy?"

"It didn't have tusks or horns..."

"One of ours, then."

"But what was it doing out here so late?"

"Nothing worth missing sleep over."

I never paid much attention to Hector. Usually in stories you expect there to be a point where the refusal to listen to someone results in misfortune and downfall... but this isn't a usual story. Because if I had thought to connect the dots-if I had cared enough to investigate and see if that wasn't Melissa they were talking about-If I had taken his concern as something worth caring about... I'd of died before my time.

With the blessing of the light, I let his words float into one ear and out the other. I slid into my tent, dropped into my surprisingly comfortable sleeping bag, and let myself drift into the sleep prescribed to me.

Tomorrow was the day.

Tomorrow was war.


	8. Book 1, Last Chapter--First

Author's Notes: finding the inspiration to write Marco has been hard, considering the effort needed for each chapter. It took a while, but... here it is. Last chapter of book 1.

Four more to go.

* * *

_"How do you survive?"_

_"I shoot first."_

* * *

_"What about you, old timer? It's your turn."_

_"Awww, shucks, no one wants to hear mine!"_

_"Nonsense!"_

_"We all had to share OURS!"_

_"It's all in good fun!"_

_"This is a judgement-free zone. Tell the truth."_

_"Make it fast, I gotta pee."_

_"Go on, Poppi!"_

_"It's not like it could be any worse than Matsuda's."_

_"...well, gosh, alright. It all started back when I was married, I suppose! See, way back when I was a young buck, I married this beautiful young gnome-she was so bright, like a tiny star had descended to Azeroth. She had a smile that could power any of the machines she worked on!"_

_"Let me guess-she died?"_

_"Nope, but that was probably a safe assumption to make! I married her because she was so ambitious-she loved her work and got hurt on the job often, so we made a good team! She could recklessly throw herself at her work without a moments hesitation because she knew I could help her pick up the pieces. Sometimes we had to pick up pieces literally!_

_"Well we were a young married couple, so it was only a matter of time before she became pregnant! We were happy, of corse, but she was never the kind of girl to let something like pregnancy slow her down! She kept working like she always had. And, well, it was only a matter of time before she made a mistake... and only a matter of time before I forgot I was healing for two..."_

_"...Oh... was it too much for her? Did she blame you?"_

_"Hmmm? Oh, no! Actually, it was the other way around. On the day we found out it was stillborn, she really didn't care. 'It was just a fetus' she said, and ''throw it in the trash, it's just meat now' when we were offered the body. Can you imagine something so cold? Looking at he corpse of our first child without even the slightest spark of compassion in her eye? It was more like disgust, like she was looking at a spoiled steak._

_"I guess I realized then how magic like mine affects people! I couldn't of known how she started to see living creatures as something that could be easy to fix, and she must of started thinking that they were easy to replace, too! The more I think about it, the more I wish I'd noticed it sooner. Maybe if I was a little more stingy with the light, she would have understood just what we'd lost."_

_"So why'd you join the army?"_

_"You guys face death every day, too. You fight, and you kill, and you could be killed at any given moment. I joined because I don't want you to become saturated with healing magic-I can't trust any other healer to help you understand just what it is we're protecting... and taking... _

_"...I guess I still believe every life is valuable. And I guess I just like pushing my beliefs on other people! Right Marco?"_

I opened my eyes. What a strange memory, disguised as a dream.

I sat up. It was still dark out, but it was defiantly morning-morning enough, anyhow, to justify getting out of bed and getting ready. There was little point in going back to bed, I figured-they'd be waking me up again soon anyway, and it'd just make me groggy to take a half-hour nap. So I shook out the lethargy that had set into my body from my sleep, what remaind of the medicine Flo gave me last night, and a few stray hairs from my beard, and slid my armor on at a luxuriously lazy pace.

I wore mail. To the uninformed, mail is armor composed of interlocking metal rings, which made it excellent at protecting me from slashing wounds and blunt attacks, like from swords or maces, but it wasn't so good at protecting me from puncturing attacks, such as pikes or crossbows or bullets. I suppose it was that way so I would be encouraged to take out other ranged fighters to I provided aid and cover to my more melee minded allies. Since I was a warrior of exceptional note, the "elite of the elite", my mail was made of thick, tightly woven, riveted steel links, with a thin layer of leather under that to absorb shock. Made it a hot wear, but in Alteric Valley I don't think I have to worry too much about overheating.

It was ornamented. Linked within the mail was runes and gems, which melted with the steel to provide me with further protection and to enhance my natural agility and stamina, as well as provide some form of resistance against magic, which would normally eat right through this stuff. It was very... green. I looked a little bit like broccoli with a brown top. It certainly wasn't indicative to camouflage, but I had my ways.

I snapped my cape around my neck-it was a flowing red thing, whose tail flickered at the slightest provocation. On the back was a intricate design, and improved, elegant version of the Ironforge symbol that had taken so many artistic liberties it was near impossible to see the base design anymore.

My helmet was a pretty simple cover-a simple green-steel dome that covered my hair, the back of my neck, and ringed around my eyes, putting it on, I felt fully prepared for the day-there was something about wearing a full set of armor that made a man feel prepared to face any challenge a day can throw at you. Battle? You're set. Riding a dragon? You got armor, you're fine. Babysitting? Lets see those brats kick your crotch without breaking a leg. Laundry? Screw clothing-you're in ARMOR.

I got my war-pike out. It appeared simple, but it was forged from the finest Titanium our Dwarven mines could provide, and designed with the finest Dwarven minds to puncture anything who so foolishly threw themselves towards it. The long hilt was inscribed with runes that told the story of a legendary unnamed Pikesman in the second war, who impaled 8 orcs in a single thrust of his pike, then took them to ironforge, alive, for interrogation. The runes tickled my fingers through my mail gloves, and I felt the strength of that unnamed Dwarf bequeathed to me by its magic. I rarely, if ever, actually used the pike as a weapon, but I kept it on my back for the strength it generated, and the odd time I am forced to engage an enemy in close quarters-spears help keep that distance I thrive on. I slid it onto my back, and it's weight tamed the wild dance of my cape.

Finally, my gun. The ol' standby. A warrior could shoot this thing-heck, anyone could, but they'd be in for a fel of a surprise when the recoil dislocated their shoulder-if they were lucky. This thing had a strong enough kick to punch through three rows of adamantine plate. It was a hand cannon in the truest sense, and without the proper training it would cause the user more harm than good. Romancing death, remember? Well, this little death incarnate was my kitten, and she purred real good in my hands.

...man, Melissa's right. I DO miss Mittens. I wonder where she went.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely. This cat has proven it's valor in the field of battle time and time again."

"...that's great and all, but how does that make her qualified to be a housepet?"

"Well you did say you had lots of small children, ma'am."

"...point."

* * *

I strapped my gun to my back as well, forming a cross on my back with my weapons-and with a deep breath, I stepped outside.

It was still dark, but there was plenty of activity in the camp-several restless people who had taken to the final hour of darkness in order to find the solace they couldn't find in sleep. They moved like specters, cautiously stepping around the sleeping masses, desperate to keep them unconscious and blissfully unaware of the morning about to dawn. I joined them, tip-toeing out of my tent and slithering through the cracks in my effort to reach the stables, where Tessa slept.

Because like fel was I gonna waste this time wandering aimlessly. If I was awake we might as well train together a little more, maybe grind whatever animosity we may of had left into a fine dust to spread under our eyes.

Also, I'd like to tell her we were going to enter combat today, before we were corralled into the cave. I couldn't be sure she knew.

* * *

The stablemaster wasn't awake, and I wasn't about to disturb her for something I could do myself, so I took it on myself to unlock her kennel and Shepard her to the opening in the tents near the cliffside. She was asleep when I found her, but didn't seem to begrudge me waking her, because the moment she stepped out of her cell she was quick to relieve herself. But she was getting a little more thoughtful about it-she went in a nearby gorilla's kennel (I had no idea who owned that gorilla... probably one of the marksmen) so as not to leave a mess in the main passage. Not really the ideal solution but at least she wasn't just going on the spot.

I hope that gorilla doesn't roll in it's sleep.

Anyway, at the clearing, she stretched her limbs out, having kept them close to her body while slowly finding her way around the tent town. She clicked, a sort of half-acknowledged 'good morning', she looked at me expectantly, waiting for something out of me-orders to train, a plan of what was gonna happen today, explicit orders NOT to do something...

"We can train in a bit. Just a little though. I have to tell you something, I'm... not sure if I've done this yet. Or stated it explicitly."

I had probably told her "we're fighting in a few days" in some capacity, but I couldn't be sure she even kept track of time the same way we did. Maybe she though that bloody day was still far, far into the distance, some unimaginable moment in the future where we'd mastered techniques that made what we were doing now look like training for a massage parlor. Sadly, that wasn't the case-what few tools we had were all we'd get, for now.

"We're going into battle toda- er, real soon. I mean, before we get to sleep again, we'll have to have survived a battle. A whole battle."

Her eyes stared dumbly at me, and she twisted her head.

"We have to KILL people today. We have to kill them before they kill us. And we have to protect other people from being killed, too."

She shrugged with all three shoulders she had, either indifferent to the idea of battle, or the shrugging gesture meant something else in Silithid.

"...well as long as you know. Now let's train. With something other than your... meld... thing."

She continued to stare at me until I lost patience.

"Something else. The basics, I guess. Hand gestures and the like, since I can't exactly shout or use the gun. Comeon-lets see kill command!"

* * *

We didn't get to train for longer than a few minutes before a trumpet blast rocked the entire camp into a state of pre-alertness. We were supposed to be awake, now, so it was only natural both me and Tessa were suddenly hit with a wave of fatigue and a powerful longing to return to our beds. But that choice was forever denied us, now, so all we could do is trudge back to the tents and join the rest of the waking soldiers.

As the moments passed, the soldiers emerged from their tents like bubbles from a shell, completely ready for battle. Their armor was on, their weapons were strapped to their bodies, their faces sturdied for the onslaught they were about to endure. What the general said was very much correct-first thing they did was start handing out the mounts and directing people who looked ready to the cave, where we were to sit idly and wait for the signal. Since I was up for a while now, and that bit of trivia hadn't been overlooked, I was one of the first to be given a goat and sent on my way.

"Go across the bridge and down the path some. The cliffs next to you will start to get smaller, and once it flattens out a little, maybe a mile and a half in, turn around-you'll see a road behind you intercept with the main road. Follow it, you'll hit the cave."

I took a last look around to see if I could catch anyone I knew, but after a good glance told me they weren't going to be around, I just got upon the goat and went on my way, going full-steam ahead-I directed, and my goat friend dashed across the bridge. Tessa, who seemed thrilled to be moving, ran besides me, able to keep pace with the male mountain sheep with ease.

We had the wide, snowy, morning-colored road to ourselves. After walking our mounts yesterday for so long, it felt good to just recklessly charge ahead, keeping the wind in my face and the scenery fresh. It really woke the soul up, got that spirit-plasma or whatever flowing. The funny thing about speed... it seemed like, if you moved fast enough, the future became indistinguishable, the past became irrelevant, and the present became so blurred that you couldn't find any imperfection. It was just what I needed right now, where if my mind had caught up with my body, the past would become invaluable, the future abrupt, and the present was ripe with tribulation.

...well, it was mostly fun. I did learn the hard way that goats aren't good at making hair-pin turns, but at least Tessa enjoyed it.

Since we were going full gallop, it didn't take long to reach the cave, where, to my surprise, there were already people waiting-others who were up early, like I was, but got to their mounts faster than me, I suppose. There were maybe six people there, either catching up on their sleep with last-minute naps, swinging their arms around to stretch their muscles out, or in light conversation. Of all six people there, there was only one I recognized, and unfortunately it was the one person I didn't want to see.

"Hey! Marco! My bunk buddy!" Hector greeted me, fully adorned in his battle-attire: Turned out, ironically enough, he was a mage, and he wore starch, hard-edged robes that resisted movement and didn't flow or wave. The design was equatable to the pattern of a moth wing, if the wing leaked an arcane power so potent it burnt through the eyelids. His staff was impressive, as well-a sort of silver/mithril alloy handle with a golden orb head, which had serrated halos floating around it, crossing and grinding silently against each other.

"Oh. Hector. Hey."

I may not care for him that much, but if I had to guess, he was the creator of the magical mana-cake plate that was levitating on the floor, so I suppose I'd have to humor him out of gratitude.

"Excited for our big day? It's going to be a heck of a party! Ooh, my adrenaline's pumped just by being here!"

"Uh huh."

"Funny thing about adrenaline, people say it gives you an energy boost, but that's not really the case! Scientists from the horde and the alliance alike both did research on adrenaline to try to find some way to weaponize it and they found something amazing! You know what it is?"

"Hmmm."

"You do? Oh, good, then I don't have to explain it. You'd be AMAZED at how little people these days know, why, I've made it my noble MISSION to try to get people to learn more! Understanding the world we live in is such an important part of living, you know? Why, I once met this fabulous author-this orc fellow name Balok. You heard of him? Ah ha- don't say a word! I know what you're thinking!"

Wow, these were actually really good mana cakes.

"Yes, I HAVE met the orc author Balok. See, they don't sell his work in alliance lands-go figure-so I have to go to booty bay every time he publishes something new and buy it from the goblins! Well, as luck would so have it, he was over there doing a signing, and I caught him just after the event! We had the most interesting conversation about the acquisition of knowledge and the duty of the writer and scholar to share that knowledge!"

"Sure, sure."

"Of corse it's a thankless job, but you should see the faces, ah-it's thanks enough. You know, back in the early early days, we didn't use gold as currency, you know. We were wiser then, and we used GRATITUDE. Not LITERALLY gratitude, mind, but a system of trade-trading direct goods and services for other goods and services! See, we weren't able to mine for gold back in those days, because Dwarfs were still underground, so we had to find something else of value, so what we did was-"

Tessa, with a slight twitch in one of her eyes, spat a gob of webbing into the man's face, which shut up him rather quickly.

"...sorry about that. She's... uncomfortable around strangers."

"...I see. Excuse me, I need to wash this off."

He turned around and went deeper into the cave, presumably to find something to wash with, and the moment he turned the corner I patted Tessa on the head.

"Attagirl."

* * *

When another person galloped up the way and found shelter in the cave, Hector found a fresh victim to antagonize while I waited for someone I enjoyed to come up. They were starting to trickle in faster now-some faces I knew, like the Marksman who worked the stables with me, the fat draenei, that strange Worgen who never takes off his creepy mask (He was a warlock? Go figure), and, finally, a face I knew with a name-Vyger.

"Beat me to it, huh?" Vyger laughed, patting me on the back as he caught up with me. "'Ell, 'ere I thought you weren't excited."

"Frankly I'm surprised you didn't just charge the frostwolves solo."

"'Ell, the general would tan m' hide f' that... but not before I tanned all of theirs!"

Something irrational in me believed his wild boast, like a child believing their dad could wrestle with a dragon and win. It was one of those childish comforts we clung to, the evolution of the security blanket.

"Where are the others? Do you know?"

"Poppi was right behind me. Can't speak for Flo or Melissa, although Melissa looked awful tired when I woke 'er up."

My memory of last night wasn't deteriorated enough for me to forget Hector's report to the guard, and I had to bite my tongue to prevent anything I'd regret saying from slipping out of my tongue in front of Vyger.

"Whas' wrong? 'Ou look upset."

"W-what? Oh, n-nothing. I just... wish she had gotten a better night's rest."

"She'll wake up soon enough."

"Yeah, probably."

At that moment, Poppi stepped in-he was a sight for sore eyes. He looked just as he always had-standard staff, his colorful gown, and a old shit-eating grin that lifted my spirits. Seeing him in what he always wore when surrounded by people in their battle-tested armor was like having a tiny fragment of last week in the now-a time before we had to worry about war, or training new pets, or anything other than ticking the boxes on the calendar away.

"Whoo! What a morning! It's getting really cold out there!" His face was so flushed from the chill you'd think he was a tomato with legs.

"Really? Wasn't that bad earlier."

"Aye, I didn' feel nothin'."

"Well, maybe it's just me, but I still feel chilled to the bone! Can anyone make a fire?"

"I think I know how, but we don't have any wood."

"Well, shoot!" Poppi wrapped his arms around himself to try to contain his shivers, a funny old grin still on his lips. "Guess I'm SOL until Melissa shows up!"

* * *

Vyger was wrong. It was actually our beloved druid who appeared next, slogging up the hill into the cave in the form of a cheetah. Naturally, we could only guess if it was Melissa until she actually became human again, and when she did we waved and said hello.

"Yeah. Where's the food?"

It seemed that was everyone's first question, and I couldn't blame them, they were really good mana cakes. I'd eaten somewhere around seven. We directed her to the plate, she grabbed a handful, and as she stuffed the magical pastries into her mouth I started talking at her.

"How're you feeling?"

"Hmmm? Mmpppff."

She swallowed.

"Okay. You?"

She was wearing leather, but it was a much more tribal design then her usual loose-fitting winter wear. It was a tightly-woven extra layer of skin, clinging to her without a trace of air between it and her skin-so thick and heavy it was amazing she looked so unfettered. She wore a helmet, to-something that wrapped around the outside edge of her face and the back of her head, which wouldn't of ever fit had she not shaved her head. She even had a polearm, like me, a J-shaped hook spear that slightly glowed green.

She looked good. It was honestly the first time I could say all the scars on her face seemed fitting and natural.

She eyed me wearily, and shifted her weight, as if on guard suddenly.

"...what are you looking at?"

...I suppose I did have a habit of staring.

"Oh! I'm just not used to seeing you in something so..."

"What?" she looked down at herself, nose wrinkled.

"...tight?"

"...and that's weird? You see me naked all the time."

Oh, druids and their sensibilities. Although I supposed it was true... she wasn't wearing anything when she was in in the shape of a beast, after all.

...suddenly I felt very awkward.

"Melissa! Boy am I glad to see you! I'm freezing!" Poppi beamed, walking over from some further corner of the cave where he had gone to seek sanctuary from the rogue gusts that found their way into the mouth of the cave.

"Oh, hey Poppi." She half yawned, returning his smile like a mirror. "Don't see what's more cold about today then yesterday or the day before..."

"A chill in the air?" I suggested, although traditionally before battle there's more of an edge to it.

"Sure, why not!"

"Alright, alright." Melissa shrugged, stuffing another cake into her mouth before turning into a bear, allowing Poppi to crawl onto her back and it was a lot more weird now that she had brought my attention to her nudity.

"Much better!" Poppi snuggled into the long fur.

"...sure."

* * *

Poppi and Melissa had started gorging themselves, with Poppi grabbing the snacks and popping the odd one into her open bear-maw, which... yeah, was still really awkward, but I didn't say anything. Vyger was giving a pep talk to some guy who was crying, so I didn't bother him, so I spent the time between Melissa showing up and Flo appearing by feeding Tessa small chunks of some cheese I had smuggled in. I'd throw it into the air and watch her catch it... I preluded this little game with the promise it was training, but really, it was just mindless fun for me. I always liked dogs, anyway.

The cave was mostly full of people by the time Flo had arrived. There was conversation abound, the spinning lights that came with the multitude of buffs being granted to us, the sound of people chewing mana-cakes (it was a wet smacking sound-it should have been disgusting, but it was more homely), and there was even a soulwell, summoned by that worgen warlock. Apparently all you had to do was reach into the green fire and pull out a health stone, but I was wary of that whole demon-magic business. For all I knew the soul of my mother was crammed in one of those rocks.

When Flo did come in, I was the first to notice-she was still beautiful, although you could tell that she had spent even more time on her makeup, and her face appeared so soft and angelic I couldn't help but wonder how the wind hadn't wiped it clear off her head on her way up here. I half expected her to be some sort of sub-arctic mirage.

She wasn't smiling, though, and I suspect that particular vision wouldn't grace us until tomorrow, at least.

She wore her carefully tailored leather outfit, which exposed as much of her body she could afford-thighs, the bottom of her feet, back of her knees, shoulders, armpits and the upper arms, stomach, her collarbone and cleavage, and no helmet to speak of. The armor itself was designed in a way to draw the eye away from the outfit and onto her smooth plum skin and summertime jewel eyes.

"Good to see you."

"Wish I wasn't here." She sighed, casting her gaze upon the crowd of people who were in the cave.

"Well it's not my idea of a good time, either. What took you?"

"Makeup." She awkwardly twisted her little wrist to gesture to her face. "And that shaman woman."

"Oh?"

"Looking for rides. Complaining about the cave. Said it'd make more sense to meet at the southernmost bunker."

"Oh."

I bit my lip, and she could only shrug. We both knew what we felt towards that woman was illogical, and yet...

"Oh, hey! Flo! Melissa, Flo's here!"

The bear turned in the same direction Poppi was pointing, and nodded at her. It seems the two of them were still eating when Flo showed up.

"There must be 200 cakes here, the plate never seems to go empty! Flo, you should grab some!"

"...just one."

* * *

She took five.

We didn't really talk to each other. I couldn't say why, there was no lack of things to say, but every time I opened my mouth something seeped into my ears that whispered to me "Nope, not now", and that took the wind out of my ambitions. We'd still talk with the people around us in what could be called dabbles of conversation, but... we didn't say much to each other... until the gate suddenly closed, trapping everyone inside the cave.

Suddenly, all forty of our units, who had been dispersed across the cave quite evenly, rushed to the gate, pressing into one large mob that stared out the window.

"What's going on?"

"Is this a trap?"

"Where'd this gate come from?"

"Are we starting soon?"

"It landed on my cloak!"

There was enough hysteria from the event that it was one of those strange moments in the human experience where everyone was talking but no one was listening, nor did anyone speak with the intention of being heard. The ungainly tapestry of mismatched voices jammed into our ears was all we wanted, and we succeeded to a frightening degree.

"AWRIGHT, QUIET!" Voyager shouted, the force in his lungs dwarfing our combined efforts. Our vocal bubbling calmed into a simmer, and he lowered his voice as well. "Horde's ready, and will be goin' down south n' 60 seconds! Say a prayer or two, n' get ready, because when that gate opens the battle begins!"

Suddenly it seemed like all the time in the world had been laid before me, and it still wasn't enough.

"Well... here goes..." I breathed, grabbing hold of Tessa's leg as she desperately shoved into the people around her, trying to get some personal space.

"Deep breaths, Marco, we'll be fine!" Poppi grimaced, hopping off Melissa's bear back (A pun? Now? Really?) and grabbing hold of the frostbitten iron bars in front of us. "You have me with you! And with a healer on your side you've got no reason to cry!"

Melissa, who became more vertically gifted and less horizontally evasive by becoming human again, nodded grimly.

"We'll be fine. What's our plan?"

"I think the five of us should capture that first tower and keep it until it catches fire." I suggested. "We'd have a solid defense and it'd free up the other soldiers to do their thing."

"Works for me!"

"Sure."

Flo didn't say anything, but I was fairly sure she was game.

We went quiet and simply waited for that gate to rise. Trying to describe the cave itself was simple enough: it was crowded, hot, invasive-we were surrounded at all sides and we were surrounding others the same. Armor ground up against armor, weapons tapped into one another and ticked like the passing of the second hand, breathing was heavy and talk flew under it, present, but weighed down by the hollow words screamed from our lungs.

Trying to describe the rest... well... that was harder. I could throw some words out at you-collective, tender, loathing, small, polite, throaty, pummeled-but those words have taken a different meaning for me, after having experienced them in that moment, in that cave, with those people, in those seconds. Whatever emotion or feeling or expression those words have taken with you... I'm not sure they can really equate anymore.

It's how words work. Experience shaped their meaning.

I didn't have time to meditate on those feelings before the gates were cranked open. As the gates rose, and the daylight washed over us... it disinfected me of everything I had done. All the fear I had experienced. All the doubt that I tried to hide. All the training I had done. All the battles I had fought. All the people I killed. All the friends I had. All the bullets in my gun. All the courage I had. All the questions I wanted to ask. All the times I had prayed. All the times my prayers were heard.

All of it was useless.

"GLORY TO THE ALLIANCE!"

Ready or not, the battle for Alteric Valley begun.


End file.
